


Probate

by divagonzo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Harry learns about the History he lived, In honor of Alan Rickman's passing, Story I wanted to write for years, Why Harry learns to respect Snape's actions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5727472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry witnessed Professor Snape's murder, at the hands of Voldemort. The day of the last funeral, he receives some jarring news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** In light of yesterday’s news, this is my requiem for Alan Rickman. That voice could cut your heart out with a dull spoon, it was so smooth. The world is a dimmer place today with his passing.
> 
>  
> 
> This one-shot will eventually get a second chapter, but for now, it’s a one-shot, and Harry centric, but I think the Snape fans won’t mind too much. **Rated T** for epithets only. No artificial lemon flavoring added. Ace safe.

* * *

Sunlight drifted through the kitchen windows, illuminating the four people sitting at the table. Mrs. Weasley was up in her room, just like she had been the last fortnight, coping as best as possible at burying her middle child.

Harry sat quietly, with Ginny next to him. They were finished with the bulk of the funerals, with only one remaining. Few would attend that one, mostly passing acquaintances and those who worked with him. And the other three sitting at the table, they were attending out of obligation to Harry. 

The others were off at work, trying to help rebuild their lives as best as possible. They plead off attending the services later this afternoon. 

A barn owl flew up to the window, sliding in gracefully to land on the table. 

Ginny reacted first, pulling the parchment from the leg and offering the Ministry owl a leftover piece of toast for the bird. He took in thanks, hooted once, and flew back out. “Harry, it’s for you.” 

He looked up from the tabletop, where he had been lost in memories for the last few minutes. 

“Who is it from?” Ron asked across the table. 

Harry broke the wax seal on the parchment and read through the information inside. Harry finished and dropped the parchment on the table top and stalked out of the kitchen, ignoring the others in there. 

“The bloody hell was that about?” 

Hermione snatched it up and scanned the note. “It’s from the Ministry. According to this, it’s the preliminary notice that Professor Snape has named Harry in his last will and testament.” 

“You’re kidding!” Ginny took the parchment from her hands and read it too. “That sodding git left his estate to Harry?” 

“It sure seems so. I reckon what all it entails?” 

“Knowing that git, it’s his supply of hair care products he never used.” 

“Probably but this looks more important.” Ginny dropped the parchment back on the table and raced out of the kitchen, leaving the other two behind to discuss Harry’s new situation in nauseating detail. She walked with a purpose because she knew the longer Harry was left to stew in his thoughts, the longer it would be before she could coax him out and talk. With each step, though, her thoughts raced like rogue bludgers, inside her head and heart. He treated her poorly too, like everyone else not in Slytherin house, but unlike the others, he wasn’t as outwardly cruel to her, not after her terrible first year. Yes, he taunted her some, but it wasn’t anything worse than her brothers taking the mickey out of her at the dinner table. Even the bloody terrible year at Hogwarts last year wasn’t that terrible until she’d woken in a cold flopsweat last week, realizing how terrible things _could_ have gone and yet didn’t. He didn’t physically hurt her, but he allowed it. 

His inaction, and only callous disregard for invoking the ire of Voldemort stayed his hand in her torments from the Carrows. His dispassionate protection of her warranted her hatred for the git. 

She looked out towards the pond and didn’t see him there and looked inside Dad’s storage shed and Harry wasn’t in there either. She looked up and saw Harry on a broom, flying around the pitch in slow circles before racing for the ground and pulling up as his trainers skimmed the grass tops. Ginny stood there, watching him repeated the moves dozens of times. 

On the last drop, she put her hands to her face, “HARRY!” after he pulled out of his dive. 

Slowly, he circled back around to her and hovered his broom before her eyes. His eyes were bloodshot and painfully dry. 

“Want to talk or keep flying?” She asked in her no-nonsense voice. 

“Grab a broom,” he muttered before taking off again. 

She went to the shed and picked out her battered Cleansweep and took off, flying higher than he was circling, intent to watch without getting in his way. 

Again and again, Harry circled and dove, pushing the broom faster each time, dragging his toes in the grass and stirring up the dust underneath. 

After the second dozen dives, he swooped up higher than she was perched, just outside the pitch and circled around her. “I think I’m ready,” he yelled over the wind so high above the apple tree tops. 

She took off, letting him follow to a particular clearing almost to the edge of the property. It was quiet out there, away from the house and far enough away from Stoatshead Hill. She settled down between the tree branches and watched him come back down to earth. Once his feet were on the ground, she took both brooms and laid them against the trunk of an oddly situated cedar tree. She settled into the soft earth, watching Harry pace the few steps between the trees, back and forth, leaving footprints in the soft ground. 

“Harry,” she spoke quietly, like she was interrupting an important discussion. 

“Why me? He hated me, or least I thought I did ‘til the night he died.” 

“He did hate you, Harry.” 

“I know he did but there was so much more to his anger than just spite.” He looked at Ginny and she grew cold. “He and my Mum were best friends growing up. And he still called her a Mudblood. Who says that to their best friend? Who betrays them to Voldemort?” 

Ginny sat and listened, letting him get everything out. 

“He loved her. I saw that and yet he still betrayed us, Me and Dad and Mum to Voldemort.” 

“Is that why you’re so angry, because you can’t fathom your friend betraying you like that? Snape was a bitter man. I hope you realize it.” 

He shook his head and kept pacing, refusing to look at her, praying that she couldn’t read his mind or know Ron’s terrible secret. 

“The man hated my father and resented me yet I get the notice from the Ministry that he named me in his will? I don’t get it. He hated me from the first time he saw me, and treated me like rubbish for so long yet I find out that he loved my Mum, and fought to protect me for years, while resenting me, and then he does this, like he trusted Dumbledore’s plans that I’d kill Riddle once and for all.” He finally looked her way and saw her confusion. “I watched him die, right in front of me, and the only thing I feel for him is resentment. He gave his life for me, so I could understand what I had to do, to defeat Voldemort.” He paced faster, turning before running into the tree trunk in front of him. “The man hated me, because of my father, but loved Mum even if he buggered things up. He got my parents killed and spent the rest of his teaching life trying to protect me as best as he could, even if he treated me like utter shite. I can’t understand it.” He stopped and looked again at Ginny. “Why would someone who hated me so much give me everything he ever had?” He stopped and looked at his trainers. “He’s the reason we had the sword. He’s the reason that I knew what I had to do. But what he did from the shadows, what little he did to protect me makes up for the years of treating me like rubbish and doing everything he could to show me up in front of others.” He looked up at Ginny, still sitting on the floor and scowled. “The man saved my life and was a complete bastard but he still turned traitor to try and save Mum and gave his life in the end.” 

“Does it confuse you?” 

“You’re damn right I’m confused. The man hated me but left me his estate? That boggles me.” 

“When you’re ready, we’ll go back to the house and see if we can’t owl the Ministry and get more answers. Then we have to go to his funeral this afternoon.” 

“You think they will? The last time, the Ministry waited 30 days to release the Will.” He sighed. “And this really complicates things this afternoon. What do I say about a man who hated me all my life because my Mum walked away from him and he hated my Dad? How do you talk about that?” 

“You aren’t obligated to say anything, Harry. You said there might be ten people there total for the funeral this afternoon. So if you’re confused, don’t say anything. Leave that to the others.” She stood up from the tree and reached for his hand, relishing the contact when he didn’t pull away. “As for the will, we’ll ask Dad when he gets home tonight and go from there.” 

“You’re right. I’m thinking too much, that’s all.” 

* * *

“Harry, good to see you,” Kingsley shook Harry’s hand and subsequently shook Ginny’s hand, “and good to see you too, Ginny.”

“Minister, thank you for coming. I know you’re busy.” Ginny sat down on Harry’s other side, listening quietly. 

Kingsley took the roll of parchment out from his robes. “I know you’re anxious about this.” 

“I’m honestly gobsmacked.” 

“Frankly, I am too. Minerva found it in the Headmaster’s study a few days after the fighting ended and sent it onward to me. I had some reservations but since the laws must be followed, I’m required to dispense this to you.” 

“I’m still boggled but go ahead, sir.” 

Kingsley unrolled the two feet of parchment and scanned it quickly. He took a very deep breath. 

“I, Severus Tobias Snape, being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath my entire estate, including my books and possessions at Hogwarts, to Mr. Harry Potter, should he survive the coming encounter with the Dark Lord. In the event of his demise, my secondary beneficiaries of said estate are for dispensation of said estate to Hogwarts, in the form of donations of my books, and disposal of any remaining estate, sold and donated to the general fund of Hogwarts.” Kingsley scanned the rest. “The remaining feet are legal information that the Wizengamot will need.” 

“Everything, sir?” 

“It appears so. I had a department secretary look into everything and it’s a residence at Spinner’s End, complete with a library’s worth of books, a small vault at Gringott’s, and his remaining possessions at Hogwarts.” 

“I don’t need the residence, sir.” 

“So we can sell it?” 

“Yes, sir. Hogwarts could use the galleons in the rebuilding process. I have no need for it. Since he did so much damage, selling his cottage can help rebuild the school. But the books might be worth it, to donate them to Hogwarts, once Hermione gets her fill of what she would like.” 

“And the vault at Gringott’s?” 

“The galleons can be transferred to my vault and the remaining possessions I will look at and decide.” 

“And there’s this, Harry.” Kingsley handed over the small black envelope, holding it gently between his two fingers. “I checked it and it’s not cursed. No one knows what it contains since only you can open it.” 

Harry broke the seal on it, which looked like a charmed Howler. It smoked for a moment before breaking open. 

>   
>  _“Mr. Potter,_
> 
> _If you’re hearing this, then it means you survived the Dark Lord and finally destroyed him, once and for all. Congratulations. It also means that I did not survive. I know you will not weep for me, for that was not how we are, both of us. Instead, recount that I despised your father, and felt insurmountable grief for betraying your mother’s friendship and love. If I gave my life for yours, then I consider it a small price for betraying your Mum, whom I desperately loved yet never had the courage to tell her. If I died in vain, then pity me for failing my one duty to you._
> 
> _“There is a book in my library at home that doesn’t belong with the others. When you look inside that book, look on page 197. The page is charmed and will open a particular box on my desk._
> 
> _“You will want what that box contains, more than anything else in my possession. I ask for no pity or grief or even kind words. The only thing I ask is an honest accounting, at least by you. Since I have perished, I care not what you think of me._
> 
> _“Goodbye, Mr. Potter. I bid you a better life than the one I lived.”_

Kingsley looked at Harry and Ginny, smirking. “Even in death, is is a bit dramatic. He has been since I first knew him at Hogwarts. But let’s go to his residence, in Cokeworth, to find this particular book.” 

Ginny stood and looked at both of them. “Harry, do you want me to come along?” 

Harry turned to Kingsley. 

“I see no problem with it. Do you want Ron and Hermione to come too?” 

“They’ve left for Australia two weeks ago, to retrieve her parents. She sent them away for safety once the War went hot.” 

“Ah, well, very good then. Bring your wands and we’ll apparate there.” 

The three of them departed the Burrow to travel to Cokeworth. 

* * *

Harry tapped his repaired wand on the doorknob and felt the magic frisson across his skin.

“How the bloody hell did he use blood wards to make it work?” 

“I dunno, sir, but if he set such for me, then we’re following his instructions.” 

Kingsley put his arm out and checked the residence before stepping inside the humble dwelling first. “Blimey, this place smells of old air.” 

Harry stepped into the parlour and saw the entire room was covered over in books. Every shelf was filled with potions books, other books of interest that would be fitting in any library. 

“And I thought the Hogwarts library was vast. He’s got so many books in here. I bet the entire cottage is covered in books.” 

“I’m sure it is, Ginny.” He looked around the room for a second before leaving, returning shortly thereafter. “The few traps have been disarmed, including the charms on the secret room. Someone lived in there but I can only guess who it might have been.” 

“Kingsley, what would he have meant, _a book that didn’t belong in here_. That makes no sense.” Harry stopped and scanned the shelves. “Everything in here is related to potions or something regarding what he did, whether it was potions or Dark Arts or Defense against such. I don’t know what he would mean by it.” 

Kingsley scanned the shelves, quietly muttering to himself. 

“Ginny, do you have any idea?” 

“I’ll start over here and keep looking.” She picked the opposite corner from Harry and started reading the spines on books. 

“Don’t touch anything unless you have to. I don’t want anyone getting hurt in here.” 

Yes, sir broke out the silence from the two younger guests. Harry continued to look and stopped at a particularly dusty corner of the room, far away from the antique desk still covered in parchment and quills. “I think I might have stumbled onto something.” 

Kingsley came over and knelt down to where Harry was looking. Ginny joined Harry and smiled. 

“It can’t hurt, Harry. Give it a try. That would be something Hermione would read for pleasure.” 

Harry pulled the dust covered hardback from the shelf and blew away the remnants. _Shakespeare_ was etched in flaking off gold on the spine. “Well, it seems to be the only one in here that wouldn’t really belong.” 

Kingsley wove his wand over it and deemed it safe. 

Ginny smiled. “He said he had that one page charmed. Try to open it, Harry.” 

“It might be attuned to your particular wand. Give it a try,” Kingsley added. 

Harry opened the book and found he couldn’t open to that particular page. He pulled his wand from his trousers pocket and tapped the paper. It opened with a gold crack and there contained a piece of parchment with writing on it. He pulled it out and read the instructions aloud. “The container is in the charm-sealed drawer on the left side, middle drawer.” 

A squeaking sound, much like broken glass, erupted from the desk. Both men turned and saw that the desk now had a third drawer on the left side, not previously noticed. “Wow. He charmed the page and made that one tiny location under a Fidelus charm. That’s brilliant.” 

Ginny smiled. “Yes it is, considering that no one for Voldemort’s group would bother with a particular Muggle Book. I bet Hermione would like that one for her library.” 

“I’ll offer it to her,” Harry muttered before looking at the desk. He opened the book to the front and saw the name _Eileen Prince_ scribbled on the front interior of the book. “It appears to be his Mum’s book. That would make some sense.” 

Kingsley checked the desk further and smiled. “Your wand, so it’s your prize, Harry.” 

He stepped in front of the drawer and slid it open, hearing the soft slide of wood on wood shelving. Inside the drawer were hundreds of vials, containing silver wisp memories. 

“Bloody hell!” the men said in unison. 

“What are those?” Ginny stepped closer, trying to see the swirling silver vials.

“Memories,” Harry said in awe. “Hundreds of them, all for me.” He looked at Kingsley. “He gave me something more precious than galleons. He gave me memories, and history.”


	2. Breaking the Wax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Kingsley talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** This chapter cropped up and Harry (and Kingsley too!) insisted I include it in their story. I hope everyone likes it. - _DG_

* * *

Harry held up the silver vial in his fingertips and saw the memories swirling inside. “Do you think there’s any order to these?”

Kingsley towered over Harry, looking at the vials with some measure of awe. “With Severus, who knows? Brilliant wizard he was, I couldn’t fathom his logic when I dealt with him.” 

Harry looked over the cask of vials and held up one, with a dark green wax seal. “That one,” he said reverently. “It’s the only one sealed with wax.” 

Kingsley nodded his head slightly.“We’ll take the lot with us to the Ministry. It might provide clues for us too on what happened to certain people.” 

“Do you think this is all of it? Could there be more hidden in the house?” Harry went to put the box down and Ginny put her hand on his arm. Warmth radiated up his arm with her gentle touch before she removed her hand. 

“If there was, he’d have told us, I reckon,” Ginny added, “and I’m not snooping through the rest of his things. The place bothers me. Maybe it’s the stale smell or maybe it’s because who used to own the place.” 

“Minister,” Harry asked while fingering the rest of the vials, “can we put the house under a seal, so I can work on disposing the items left here?” 

“Of course. I reckon that you don’t want any of these things transferred to Gringott’s yet since there’s a bit of a mess still going on.” 

Harry kept an eye on his battered trainers. “That will take a bit to sort out, sir.” He didn’t dare admit that the goblins wanted his skin for a bank rug for what happened six weeks ago, even if the dragon did the bulk of the damage to the bank. 

“Sir, I think I should get back and check on Mum.” Ginny looked at Harry and saw the concern on his face. “I don’t want to leave her alone too long. If she does come out and doesn’t find me, she will go completely mental.” 

“We’ll take you home first. And I think Harry might want to get one or two things before we go to the Ministry. Isn’t that correct?” Harry knew the Minister was referring to his Invisibility cloak. 

“Do you think everything else will be safe until we return? Not that I have any great affinity for anything in here, but a thief trying to make a few galleons might find some useful items.” Harry thought of Mundungus ransacking Grimmald Place which mucked up a few things for a month or so. 

“Oh, I think so. I will secure the property until you’re ready to sell it. I might be a Minister but I’m also an Auror.” 

“It won’t be immediate, probably, not until I can have help assisting in disposing any dark artifacts left behind.” He went quiet, thinking of the gaudy necklace that harmed Katie and how long she was in St. Mungo’s recovering from the damage inflicted. 

“I can send a couple of specialist wizards to do that for you, if you choose.” 

Ginny was looking at the shelves of books and not paying attention to the men. 

“I’d like that. I might blow up the house if I saw a boggart by myself right now. And if there was a dark magic artifact, I might be hurt or worse if I was here by myself.” 

Kingsley looked Harry in the eye and found what he was looking for. He put a hand around the younger man’s shoulder. “We’ll do it for you. I’ll ask Bill Weasley to help me do it. The size of this cottage might take a day using magic to clear it completely. Once it’s cleared, anything found that can be handed over to you will be transferred to your vault. Otherwise, it’ll be disposed of.” 

“I’m sure there’s plenty in here. But this,” Harry held up the box of vials, “this is what interests me most.” 

“Let’s get Miss Weasley home and we’ll see to this business.” The three of them made their way to the front of the snug cottage, leaving behind everything else. 

“Sir,” Harry stopped them at the front door, “what interest do you have? I presume Professor Snape wasn’t well liked by anyone in the Order but – “

“Personally, Severus was a very bitter man. He wasn’t pleasant and I didn’t like working with him, especially given what he was doing. But he was a practical, pragmatic wizard who was willing to get his hands dirty while helping us. He did his tasks extremely well, considering what was asked of him, and the great risks he took. I won’t judge him for his faults nor will I hold him in esteem for what he accomplished.” Kingsley looked at Ginny on the other side of the room. “He’d consider it bad taste to think anything other than candidly about him, regardless of what I thought of him personally.” 

“And this, sir?” Harry lifted the box slightly. 

“I hope Severus was kind enough to take an accounting of what happened so we’ll know for justice, if not posterity. Severus might have witnessed some being murdered, or he might be why they are dead, or disappeared. Either way, we need to know.” 

Harry looked on the vials with trepidation. “Will you accompany me into the memories? There’s likely to be so many people I don’t know that I won’t be able to help with identification.” Harry looked at the sheer number of vials. “Maybe Mum and Dad will be in them, but I don’t know if you knew them. What I know is from the memories of others, like Sirius and Remus.” 

“I planned on going in with you. I know the list of the missing and deceased. I can do that well enough.” Kingsley wove his wand around the small library, checking it again for any concealed magic. “And I knew your parents, well, mostly your Dad. Mum, not as much, but James I did, even if we were in different houses. He was three years younger and a bit of a tosser.” 

“That seems to be the main opinion of him,” Harry said quietly. 

“But I also knew him outside of school, too. He was a good bloke once he grew up some and quit being a bit of a git. But I know boys are prats at that age, especially me.” 

Kingsley opened the front door and held it for the other two. They followed and he stepped outside and cast his wand in a complicated form. “It’s secured and under Auror grade spells. It won’t protect the cottage from a sustained attack but this will do.” 

The three of them went to the end of the row and saw no one. “We’ll apparate from here. Hold on.” 

They disappeared from Cokeworth with barely a pop. 

* * *

“Let me know if you’re staying late at the Ministry.” Ginny stood off just a little distance, ready to go through the wards at a moment’s notice. Kingsley stood watch with Harry not paying as close of attention. 

“I plan on coming back for dinner. I don’t think I can deal with too much at one time, not with what it may entail.” 

“I understand. Dinner won’t be much but I figure you won’t mind.” 

Harry smiled wanly. “I don’t mind your cooking at all.” He reached out for her hand and squeezed it once before watching her pass the wards of the property and walk towards the house, disappearing within a few steps. 

Harry turned and saw Kingsley’s face. 

“Has she mentioned to you what she went through at Hogwarts this past year?” 

“Not to me. I know some of what happened, from Neville, but I know there’s more she’s not telling me.” 

“I’m holding her to it, about her information once she turns 17. Molly and Arthur would be gutted if they knew everything she went through this year.” 

“I know it was bad, sir,” Harry started before Kingsley cut across him. 

“And you only know a tiny bit of it. I know more, thanks in part to a few professors who talked at the time, and Madame Pomfrey.” 

“Madame Pomfrey, sir?” 

Kingsley turned to the younger man with him. “Yes, Poppy. Everyone and their grandmother wants to talk to you, or Minerva, or even Horace. Few if anyone will talk to a Healer matron. See, she knows more than Minerva would, considering she’s bound by her Medi-witch oaths to keep quiet about the injuries and maladies that affect the students. She’d keep her confidences way longer than anyone else, because of her position. She’ll also document any injuries brought in – or what was told to be kept off-record.” 

“I don’t understand, sir.” 

“We’ll go to my office where I will explain.” Kingsley held out his arm and Harry looped through it, holding onto the case of vials.” They disapparated away, squeezing him impossibly tight for a moment before he could breathe again. 

“Now that we’re here, I can explain.” Kingsley went to his desk and pulled out a large stack of parchment, 12 inch pieces of parchment and stacked hundreds of sheets deep. “These are the medical incident reports, recorded by Poppy Pomfrey, for the last year at Hogwarts.” 

“Blimey!” 

“Now, this would be a stack of parchment for a full enrollment, Harry. But last year, at Hogwarts, the enrollment at the school was down more than fifty percent! So if there were 500 students, this would be about average. But for 250 students, mostly still in Slytherin, this is an abomination. Like this one,” Kingsley pulled a sheet up from the stack. 

_“Seventh year student Seamus Finnegan, Gryffindor, brought into ward at approximately 9pm Wednesday night, after being found in a hallway. When brought to consciousness, he said he tripped on the stairs and fell. When confronted privately, he said under confidence that he had been set upon by six people from Slytherin house, who cast multiple spells upon him. He passed out and woke in the ward. Mr. Finnegan wouldn’t admit to the culprits but needed three days to heal. Headmaster was informed of event and replied, ‘Mr. Finnegan should be in his common room where he belongs after dinner.’”_

“And then there’s this one,” Kingsley picked up another sheet. 

_“Seventh year student Neville Longbottom, Gryffindor, was brought into ward at approximately 9am Friday morning. According to Headmaster, he was shackled in the dungeon for forty eight hours for chronic interruptions of Dark Arts professor, giving cheek to said professor, disrespecting said professor, and questioning teaching methods and curriculum of professor in question. Professor demanded detention for Mr. Longbottom and was granted such. Mr. Longbottom confided privately that he had been crucio’d multiple times, to get him to agree that the teaching methods were acceptable, not ‘load of bunk for torturing children.’ Mr. Longbottom spent a week in the ward, recovering from severe dehydration, curse damage, severe blood loss, and multiple broken bones. Headmaster was informed and said, ‘Maybe Longbottom should keep his ill-informed opinions to himself.’”_

“Were there any in the stack about Ginny?” 

Kingsley’s face was cold and hard. “Yes, multiple ones. I won’t go into them. But suffice to say, I’m sure that there are a few vials in the collection that might be very hard for you to cope with, considering what was witnessed. I pray not but I’m not naive.” 

“You think Professor Snape included some from his year as Headmaster.” 

“I do, and it will probably be difficult if not impossible for you to cope with some of it.” 

Harry sat down in the chair behind him and thought on what Neville told him in the common room the following day. He remembered the grief on his friend’s face and the upset on Ginny’s face. “I can’t back away now, sir. There are people depending on us to give them answers, whether they want them or not. It might be a shit duty - ” 

“Harry,” Kingsley growled but Harry kept onward. 

“And it’ll suck dragon’s balls but I have to do it. People stood up for me, fought for me, and died for me. I owe them this, even if it’ll gut me.” 

“You have courage, Harry, I’ll give you that.” 

“I’ve already died once,” Harry whispered while deep in thought, “so I think I can handle this.” 

“You mistake me, Harry. And let me share this… dying’s easy compared to continuing to live. I hope that I can help you in that regard.” 

“You, sir?” 

“What do you want to do now, Harry?” 

“Well, I’d considered being an Auror but I think last year and no NEWTS mucked up those plans.” 

“Who says?” 

“I don’t understand, sir.” 

“Let me lay it all on the table for you: The Auror Corps has been eviscerated. 80% are missing and the most are presumed dead. I currently have 12 people left out of 100. Twelve, Harry. So right now, I’m going with what I have and what I need – and I need you, and others. I need young people with courage, determination, and willing to see justice done, not vengeance, to help me right our society.” 

“And the first step – “

“The first step is going through those 100 vials in your possession and helping me solve questions on what happened to the people who are missing, as deplorable and terrible of a duty it is.” 

“And that’s not all, is it?” 

“No, it’s not. I said I need you. I didn’t say I’d slack standards. You’ll go through what every Auror has gone through, if not worse. See, we need as many as possible, some sooner than others. And I’m going to have you up soonest, but it’ll be hell since we’ll have to rush you through it.” 

Harry’s face went stoic. “I’ve been there. Nice place and quiet warm. I’m not anxious to go back.” 

“Don’t cheek me, Harry. I’m telling you what’s going to happen if you want this life. It’s not easy and there are parts that are dead boring and some that are going to give you nightmares. Are you willing to do it?” 

“I am. If I die tomorrow, again, it’s longer than I expected to live.” Harry whispered, “and I’ve had nightmares as long as I can remember.” 

“One other thing,” Kingsley picked up a quill and dipped it in the inkwell on his desk. “You’re going to see the Auror Healer this week.” 

“What!” 

“I’m mandating a new requirement for all Aurors and candidates. What just happened was hell and I want everyone strong enough mentally and emotionally to cope. I won’t have someone breaking when a wand is raised. I hired her two weeks ago, from St. Mungo’s. She’s trained, qualified, and excellent. Everyone will have to see her at least once, including you. No visit, no going further.” 

“But sir,” his voice went higher. 

“No buts, Harry. All Aurors will be above reproach, mentally and emotionally. I can’t do it since I’m running the Ministry and trying to capture fugitives. Healer Reeves will assess you and see that you get all the help you need, whatever you need.” 

“I’m fine, sir. I don’t need it.” 

“And you’re getting it whether you think you need it or not. Face it, Potter, I’m looking at a young man who has been through Hell and back multiple times and has lived to tell about it. I’ve talked quietly with Bill Weasley, and Remus before he died, and others.” 

Harry groaned. 

“Every single one of them tells me you have nightmares every night, and that you have terrible fits of moods and go for hour long flying sessions in the middle of the night. You’re not fine which is why you will get the help you need and then have the training you need.” 

“Aren’t there others who need it more?” 

“Frankly, yes, there are. But my primary concern is you, Harry. You’ve lost so many who have been important to you and since Remus is gone, I have a promise to fulfill.” 

“Promise, sir?” 

“He begged me, up in the battlements of the castle, that if I lived and you did too, that I’d mentor you. By Merlin, I’m going to do it.” 

“I don’t need another mentor,” he sulked. 

“And you have one whether you like it or not. So you’re going to do what is asked of you, which will include sessions with the healer.” 

“Will they know?” he asked like a petulant child. “I don’t want the Weasleys knowing how bad things really are.” 

“You sure about that, Harry? Molly adores you.” 

“And she’s not left her room at the house in a fortnight. I - “ his voice broke suddenly, “she’s got enough to worry about.” 

“And Arthur?” 

“I barely see him since he’s working so much. He’s not a help right now,” he replied bitterly. 

“But someone cares, Harry.” 

“And they are off in Australia for who knows how long.” 

“I’m not talking Ron and Hermione. I’m talking Ginny.” 

“That’s not happening either. I broke it off with her at the end of last year. When she saw me, she slapped me. We’ve talked a little but it’s only pleasantries. I can’t depend on her.” 

“So you’re trying to do this on your own, is that right?” 

Harry stood up from his chair and stalked around the room. “Who else do I have? Dumbledore is dead. Remus is dead. Sirius, dead.” 

“And I’m offering to help.” 

Harry pulled his wand and blasted the couch at the far end of the room, exploding it into feathers. “I don’t need your help,” he screamed at the wall. “Don’t you get it?” 

“And you just proved you do. And unlike Gawain and Hemera, I’m not going to destroy you for pulling a wand in my office, but you do need help.” 

“People die when they help me!” He pointed his wand at the other chair in the office and blasted it to splinters. 

“And yet here I am, alive and breathing.” 

Harry turned, his face bright red in pent-up rage, and saw the calm face looking back at him. Harry stood quivering, barely restraining his fury. 

“This is why you need help, Harry. Tell me, did anyone help you after Cedric was murdered?” 

“No,” he growled out while his temper stewed. “And I was stuck with my bloody familymuch of the summer with little contact with my friends. Dumbledore was trying to protect me!” 

“And after Sirius died?” 

“I talked with Ron some, but,” his voice trailed off. 

“Dumbledore?” Kingsley asked kindly. 

“No one.” The bitterness in his voice was obvious. 

“Well, things are going to be different now. What I’m offering you Harry is someone to help you cope, so you’re not doing it all alone. Aurors like Moody died out years ago. Now, we help one another, like a team. Tonks taught us that and it’s been a boon.” 

Harry’s anger deflated. 

“Heavy drinking doesn’t help. Neither do potions. Tonks said it was completely rubbish to keep a stiff upper lip like her Mum did with her. And you know what? She was right. So we talk, even if it’s among ourselves, in a debriefing. Other Aurors understand the crap we go through. And it keeps Aurors alive, knowing that others depend on us. Your friends, and those in the service, do help.” 

Harry staggered back down into the chair. “And mine are on the other side of the world right now and can’t help.” 

“And they aren’t the only friends you have, Harry. For now, I won’t ask you to trust me, but I do ask that you do listen, so I can earn your trust. Same for Ginny, too. I bet she’ll listen.” 

“She’s too busy trying to keep her family from crumbling to worry about me.” 

“You’re not going to do this by yourself, Harry. You might give up on people but I refuse to give up on you.” 

Harry looked up from his hands and saw the Auror standing fierce over his desk. 

“You’re not the only one who has lost almost all his friends. But I’ll be arsed if I let you turn into a bloody inferius and hide away from the world. Now get that box of memories and bring them with you. We have a job to do and by God, we’re going to do it. 

“Yes, sir.” Harry picked up the box from the desk and followed Kingsley out of his office.


	3. Reading the fine print

Harry picked up the laden box and shifted it slightly in his arms. 

“This way,” Kingsley motioned to a solid wood wall behind his desk. He waited patiently while Kingsley did the incantation the wall and a door appeared. “Did you really think I’d make you carry that through the main hallways?”

“I’m following your lead, like you told me, sir.”

Kingsley gave him a look and any further comment Harry was thinking died immediately.

They stepped through the door and the wall sealed behind him. “We’re going this way, down to the Department of Mysteries, because this information is sensitive. Right now, since I don’t know who is an infiltrator and who is a loyalist to the Ministry, I have to be exceedingly careful.”

“Is there anyone you do trust? If It’s just us, then we might be in a spot of bother.”

Kingsley kept walking down the narrow hallway. “Arthur, obviously. And the rest of the Weasleys, even if some of them are in no shape to help right now. Fleur? I went on one mission with her and she did quite well but she’s loyal to Bill, not necessarily to what I’m trying to do. And since I know that she’s the primary reason why the Weasley family hasn’t crumbled to ash, I won’t ask much of her right now since I need Arthur and Bill by my side. 

“And then there’s Gawain and Hemera. I trust Gawain with my life, since he was my Senior when I came up. And Hemera is my best friend and has been since childhood.” Kingsley stopped in front of a stretch of unadorned hallway. He tapped his wand in a complicated pattern before the wall shifted. Inside was a lift. “In here.”

Harry followed with his box and put it down on the floor. “Riddle and his puppet Thicknesse decimated the Aurors and much of the leadership of the Ministry. Gawain agreed to run the Aurors until a suitable Director was found, if that’s even possible. And Hemera? She already has her assignment once she’s recovered well enough from the fighting at Hogwarts that night and the Ministry later on.” Kingsley tapped the wall in a different pattern and the lift started moving. “I have a handful of people I trust in this whole place, maybe a dozen in total of hundreds. The Ministry used to have so many working but after Riddle took over, so many departments lost all their personnel - including some vital ones. So right now, as enormous as my job is, we still have to do the job and that is to look through those vials and maybe catch a few more Death Eaters.”

“There’s no one else to help, is there?”

“I have ten people, in total. I don’t even have time to hire people so someone else is doing that. Which means,” the lift shifted and Harry slid into the other wall, “that it’s entirely possible that I’ll get a wand in the back and a cold coffin too.”

“Not if I can help it,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“And you’re going to help, by going through those memories and finding out how many died that we can’t account for. Percy - “

“Percy Weasley, right?”

“Yes, him. He was rather instrumental in getting Umbridge arrested, along with keeping Yaxley in Azkaban until his trial. He generated so much parchment about the affairs of the Ministry that his bureaucratic documentation will probably be the basis of most of the cases against those who worked to topple Scrimgeour. Malfoy’s testimony is only verification of the files that Percy generated.”

The lift shifted again, throwing Harry into the grating. He winced but Kingsley didn’t mention it. 

“Sir, are we in that much danger right now?”

The lift opened and Kingsley took off. Harry raced after him until Kingsley stopped mid-stride and Harry nearly ran into his back. “Sadly, yes. I know most of the obvious Death Eaters fled once Riddle died. But unless I can put everyone in the Ministry to Veritaserum and even that isn’t completely reliable, I’m going to be like Moody and completely careful who I trust and what information is given out.

“So yes, down here in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries, we are actually safe. See, those who work down here take an oath before they start their first day working that their duty is to their research, not any particular Minister. They are neutral in all other matters, which is why so many down here aren’t your normal Wizard. 

“It doesn’t mean I don’t have to stay mindful, but I’m not as paranoid working with the researchers.”

Harry stayed rooted to his place outside the now disappeared lift. “I never realized,” his voice trailed off in the darkened hallway. He looked around at the hidden hallway. There were dark wood walls and gaslamps providing just enough illumination. 

“You thought we’d take the long way around? Hardly. This is the express route to get to the Department. This way.” Kingsley took off at a fast pace and Harry was hard pressed to keep up. “You went the long way, and causing a spot of bother for Scrimgeour.”

Kingsley stopped at an unadorned door. Kingsley tapped his wand on the glass knob and it opened to reveal an expansive room, filled with desks. A tottering older wizard ambled over. “Greetings. How can I help you? We don’t get many visitors down here during the week.”

“Kingsley Shacklebolt and with me is - “

The older wizard turned bright green and took three steps back. “I know who is with you. ‘Tis a pleasure to finally meet Mr. Cooper. We’ve heard so much about you down here, even if it comes at a trickle.”

Harry smiled and lifted his box slightly. “Nice to meet you, Mr. - “

“Rathbone. Cyril Rathbone. And this is my office,” He waved his arm around behind him. “This is the library.”

“But sir, there are no books in here.”

“Nonsense, Mr. Cooper. There’s plenty of research in this room, why over here - “

Kingsley stepped forward. “Cyril, I know you’d love to tell Mr. Cooper about the extensive research you’ve done regarding memories and how to make a Pensieve but right now, what I could use - “

“Is the works by Norville Wainwright from the seventeenth century on the advancement of particular Welsh runes to make a Pensive function efficiently…”

“... is a full-sized pensieve for memory analysis.”

“And this shelf here,” he bent over far and Harry had to laugh at his chartreuse trousers under his robes,” is the work of Emmaline Turgidson from the late 1700s regarding the virility of memories and how long they can last before degrading into oblivion.”

“Cyril, a pensieve?”

“Go ahead, Kingston. You know your way around this department, almost as good as an Unspeakable. I’d rather show Mr. Cooper around since we rarely get visitors these past two years. You’d think the minister….” Cyril walked out of the room without looking behind him.

Harry snickered quietly. “He’s a bit barmy, isn’t he?”

“He has been as long as I’ve known him and that’s going on twenty years now. He is so deep into his work and research that he barely knows how to interact with people anymore.”

“So what does he do?”

“Why memories, of course! He reviews them for the Aurors but there are so few now who use his help because Scrimgeour didn’t think it was helpful or prudent, since memories weren’t always reliable or unalterable.”

Harry opened the lid on the box and plucked out the wax sealed vial from the collection. “I assume you want to look at this one first, sir.”

“We might as well. It might help with sorting the memories here or it might not.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry tried twisting the top of the glass vial and it wouldn’t budge. “Oops,” He apologized and pulled his wand from his trousers and tapped the top. THe wax cracked and the cork stopper landed in his hand. “It’s ready now, sir.”

“Pour it in and let’s see what Severus has to tell us.”

Harry did as asked and put his face to the top of the pensieve. He was sucked in immediately.


	4. Codicil One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finally hears what is going on.

Harry landed well this time, without the discomfort previously, only a couple of months prior, from the last time he used a Pensieve. Kingsley stood solemnly next to him, waiting patiently.

“Sir, I don’t understand.” Harry looked around at a set of living quarters he was wholly unfamiliar with. Bookshelves were stacked to the stone ceiling all around the room, only surrendering wallspace to an older writing desk and a potions station next to the doorway. A wood door was on the opposite side of the room, possibly leading to a bedroom.

The scene wobbled a touch before he moved without volition towards a tiny ensuite. Severus stood in front of a mirror, looking rather worse for wear. “Mr. Potter, if you are viewing this, then you have found the case of memories I left behind for you. Congratulations on defeating The Dark Lord. No one else would be able to open the book, much less the desk and vial, considering the precautions I took to preserve the memories and information for you. ”

Kingsley snorted lightly. 

“Since you have this vial, you are in need of explicit directions and instructions. First, the information can be shared with Kingsley or whomever is left in the Ministry. I cannot presume that Kingsley survived or anyone else I know personally. However, the information shared must be given to whomever you deem necessary. I do not ask you to banish my notorious actions, or that you try to justify what I did while trying to undermine The Dark Lord. What I’ve done, including acts which would have earned me a lifetime in Azkaban, need to be recorded for posterity. My reputation matters not to me, only the historical accounting.”

“He’s serious, isn’t he? He means it, all of it.” Harry twisted her hands together, feeling a headache coming on.

“I warned you that is going to be brutal and hard to witness, much less cope with.”

“But I have to, sir. I owe it to those who died for me.”

“So be it,” Kingsley whispered back.

“There is no real order to the vials but some of it won’t make sense without others. Suffice to say, there is plenty of murder involved, some by my wand to protect my cover, and some by others where, had I acted, would have exposed my traitorous intentions. Many of the deaths I witnessed, I did not act to protect them. Their lives are accounted for, at least the ones I know of.”

The memories wobbled again, this time to the desk.

“The top drawer on the right side,” he motioned a wand and the drawer disappeared before his eyes, “is under a Fidelus charm.” A frisson washed over him, even in the memories. “And now you can access it, unlike anyone else. Inside the desk is a journal, which is also an accounting of the year at Hogwarts. It would be prudent,” he voice drifted slightly, “to hand that one over to Kingsley or whomever survived the purge at the Ministry.”

“Can we see to that today, Minister?”

“I’ll firecall Minerva when we’re done today. Since I heard it too, I can access the drawer.”

“And finally, Mr. Potter,” Severus face relaxed, making him look older, sallow, and hard-worn, “since we are sharing my remaining memories, I realize that this might be hard for you to cope with, considering everything that happened, but there are some memories inside the vials that are vile. I heard from others,” his voice dropped timbre, “that you had a special affection for Miss Weasley. The vials in the next to last row, away from this one, are the ones that are the most disturbing. Watch them with caution, if you wish to stay out of Azkaban.”

“Kingsley,” Harry looked at the sallow man with the frown on his face, “do you mind if we did those first? I know the Carrows aren’t a threat to anyone now but I’d like to get them over with, if possible."

“Sure. And after we watch them, I’ll give you a few days off. I know what to expect but I’m sure it’s going to be rough regardless.”

“The last row are from the days leading up to the 1st of May. I can only presume that if there isn’t a second vial like this then I didn’t survive much past then.” He recomposed his face again, showing no weakness. “I can hope I died with a purpose and not in vain.” He stiffened up even further. “Dumbledore looked at death as the next great adventure. I don’t share his sentiment. I, on the other hand, look forward to a very well earned sleep, however I gained it.”

“What does that mean?” Harry puzzled.

“If you’re wondering, Mr. Potter, it means,” he cheeked in his baritone voice, “that I’m dead tired from being pulled three ways, with Dumbledore and with The Dark Lord. Even Potions Masters would like a full night’s sleep - or in this case, a permanent sleep.”

“Cheeky bastard,” Harry muttered.

“As I requested, in my papers, dispose of my things as you see fit, including my books if Miss Granger is interested, provided she survived. Otherwise, I leave the rest to you to follow through on my wishes. And finally, Mr. Potter,”

Harry watched the older man, who was too old for his chronological age, smile, slightly. “I know I lost Lily when I betrayed her. Your Mum was most precious to me and I failed. I tried to move the world to protect her - and only her - and failed. She is the reason I tried to help you, even if it wasn’t what you thought. Since you’ve listened to this and I didn’t, it was a small price to pay for my betrayal, of her and you. I don’t ask for pity, or forgiveness. That would be asking too much for my shame. ”

The memory faded and Harry was left standing in the Department of Mystery office with Kingsley by his side.

“Wow. I never expected any of that.”

“I didn’t either, Harry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, which hasn't been written yet, will be angst filled and potentially triggering. Stay tuned... _DG_


	5. Codicil two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Harry wishes duty wasn't so heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** This chapter is a bit hard to read but I've kept it to enough to demonstrate how rubbish the last year of Hogwarts was without being too graphic. There are trigger warnings for abuse and gore, for those in need. If so, please wait until next update.

* * *

Harry plucked the first vial in the row that was next to last. The biscuits he shoved into his mouth earlier were threatening to reappear, without magic. “Sir, do you think this will be bad?”

Kingsley finished pulling the memories out of the Pensieve and returning them to the vial they were stored in. Kingsley’s face appeared to have a hard edge to his jaw, along with a troubled look on his face. “Bad will be the best possible outcome, Harry. But let me say this,” he turned and gripped Harry’s shoulders firmly. “There’s no shame in not wanting to witness the cruel villainy that will probably be contained in those vials. And there’s no shame if you want to not see the horrors that happened, either at Hogwarts or otherwise. And if you want to get sick from it,” he motioned exactly what Harry’s biscuits were threatening to do, “don’t do it in the Pensieve. That’s a bugger and a half to clean.”

“Yes, sir.” He lifted the cork stopper from the vial and poured it into the Pensieve. They swirled and Harry put his face in, falling into the memories.

He knew where he was now, having walked this particular stretch of hallway for most of his sixth year. But instead of ascending to the Headmaster’s Study, he was following along away from it, moving with a purpose towards the basement.

“The cells,” he muttered.

“You know this?” Kingsley asked. 

“If this what I think it is, I will probably be sick.”

“If you do, pull your head out first. I’ll watch the rest if need be.”

Harry set his jaw and watched, through the Headmaster’s eyes on his trip down to the cells, two levels below the Slytherin common room. Snape used his wand to open the door into the room and stepped inside. 

“Soddin’ time you got here, Snape. Took you bloody long enough.” He saw Amycus backhand Neville after Alecto woke him magically. Neville shook his head before spitting out blood and a tooth. Alecto pointed her wand at Neville and he grunted. 

The memories turned red for a moment before becoming clear once more. Sure enough, Harry fought down the bile in his throat. Neville was tied up in ropes, from his wrists to his ankles, and saw his jaws stretched impossibly wide, held open to the point of breaking with vile magic.

“You brought me down here to deal with a disciplinary measure?” His voice was cool, almost detached. “Can you not handle Longbottom and his recurring insolence?” 

“Amycus caught him with Weasley,” Alecto pointed towards the other wall and Harry caught a brief glance left and saw ginger hair against a wall but couldn’t get a good look at her, “tearin’ the bleedin’ school. Coupla Purebloods caught ‘em before they done worse.”

“And you needed my assistance to discipline them? Have you lost complete control of the students? Pity. I expected better from The Lord’s own chosen.” He sat down in a wooden chair next to Longbottom.

“The bloody strumpet attacked me.” Alecto flexed her hand once. “Good thing Amycus came along and put the sniveling bint on her arse and f* her up some.”

“And you needed my attention for what reason?” 

“We need a bottle of Veritaserum to dose the gits and find out what else they’ve done to the school. We know it’s them. Someone torched my robes.”

“And as I told you last week, you used up all of my personal stores of the potion a fortnight ago questioning Finnegan about the destruction of the Dark arts classroom. And for your further information,”

“For fuck’s sake, Snape, don’t play stupid. Get us what we want, now. We know you have it stashed somewhere in this bloody castle. Go get it. ”

“And you’re a fool, Amycus.” Snape’s voice was soft and inherently dangerous. 

“I seen you with it,” Alecto snapped and a sharp thwack echoed behind his head. He didn’t turn to see that Ginny bore the brunt of her frustrations. He kept his focus on Longbottom, secured to the floor at his feet. 

“Tormenting Weasley will not change the circumstances, Alecto. As I have said, your brother used up all of my stores and it takes months to brew more. So if you’re patient, I should have another cauldron brewed by the end of July.”

“That’s rubbish. Get it now. We need it to use on these two gits.”

“If you paid attention when Slughorn was instructing you, Veritaserum takes approximately four months to brew. One mistake and you have to start over. And since your brother had a heavy hand for dosing all of the students when they gave cheek, I’ve run out.”

Harry watched the brutal man pace the room, guessing what was about to come. “Bugger it. I know a way to make Longbottom - or Weasley, fess up.” He looked up from his wand and the maniacal glee on his face radiated. “Get out, Snape. You don’t have the bollocks to make’em to talk."  


“On the contrary, Amycus. I should stay so I can keep you from killing either one of them. They might be blood traitors to our Lord, but he has banned no bloodshed of any Pureblood.” His voice dropped further. “I should stay so you don’t harm them irreparably, Weasley especially.”

“The bint might lose her tongue but she could still pop out some sprogs for a suitable Pureblood.” He heard another thwack and a cough to his left but kept his face firmly on Neville. “Maybe she’ll take after mummy and drop a litter of sprogs.”

Snape turned towards Alecto and Harry yanked himself out of the Penseive, feeling the bile ready to erupt. He made it three steps away from the Penseive before retching all over the floor. 

Hours - or minutes, Harry couldn’t tell - passed while the dry heaves continued, making his stomach ache. “Chew this,” Kingsley handed over a bright green sweet from his pocket and Harry did as instructed. His stomach immediately settled and he could catch his breath.

“I warned you that it was bad.”

“I never thought they’d treat her that horribly. Why? We’d broken up!”

“Harry,” Kingsley said kindly, “did you honestly expect Ginny to sit quietly and meekly while at school when the Carrows were there? Did you think she’d not find some way to resist their tyranny?”

“But they tortured her. She looked - “

“Like she’d been beaten within an inch of her life. Yes, I know. Poppy showed me the parchment when she was brought in.”

“They told me,” Harry whispered, trying to scrub the memory away. “Neville told me some things but Ginny,” Harry looked up and his voice trailed off. 

“Alright there Harry?”

“No,” he put his head down and scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “That was terrible.”

“I know. And we have so many more to go.”

Harry looked up and could have sworn he saw commiseration on Kingsley’s face. 

“How do you do it?”

“I’m an Auror, Harry.” He helped Harry up and watched him wipe the snot from his nose. “I’ve seen so much on the job that few things phase me. I’ll admit, that was bad.”  


“We’ve got more of that, don’t we?” Kingsley nodded. “But only if you are ready.”

Harry felt the numbness stealing over him, like it did when he saw Remus the last time. He reached over and replaced the first vial, marking it with his wand before plucking the second out of the tray. 

“I’m ready. We have a job to do.”


	6. Paragraph one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry uncorks another vial and learned more about the man whose memories he's viewing.

Harry pulled the cork from the third vial and poured it into the Pensieve. The memories swirled for a moment and he put his face in, trying not to dread what he was about to witness.

“I think they were in the wrong order, sir.” Harry stood dumbfounded at what he was seeing before him - a classroom of first years, and from how the class was arranged, it was his first day of potions class, so many years past. Kingsley formed next to him, looking around as well.

“Anyway, we’ll watch it. I said I wouldn’t leave your side on these, good or bad.”

“Yes, sir.” He watched himself - barely understanding what happened the first day with Professor Snape and why he was so _rude_ to him in class. But years and wisdom told him that the man’s issues were his own, taken out on a child who was thrust into a new world with more challenges than he could consider, as an 11 year old. It was only years later that he realized why the boy was taunted and persecuted - for the crime of being his father’s son.

He watched Ron and himself depart the room, minutes after Hermione left, waiting minutes for the room to clear. Then he was off, looking through the professor’s eyes as he stalked the now emptied hallway, heading towards his own rooms. Paintings on the walls and a straggling student didn’t slow his stalk.

“Chimera in your cloak, Severus?”

He didn’t turn to regard the older wizard now walking with him in the hallway. “He’s just like his father, insolent and disobedient. I apologized to him in front of everyone and he couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge it.”

“Did you speak to him like an ignorant child, unfamiliar to the Wizarding world, or did you cloak it in such eloquent symbolism to hide your true intentions?” Harry saw the pace quickened even further.

“How dare you!” The softness of his words screamed warning.

“Oh I dare, Severus. The lad was raised by Muggles and didn’t have the education and upbringing you did. He is woefully ignorant of a great many things, things that you take for granted.” They walked on, past the entrance to the kitchens. “Did you hide your apology inside of eloquence, to hide your own intentions? Would it have been difficult to tell him candidly that you were truly sorry for your actions, especially towards your betrayal of his parents?”

The men stopped in a dank portion of hallway, close to the Slytherin common room.

“You’re a vicious bastard, you know.”

“Why, because I remind you of your promise to me, and your obligation to the boy? It will only wound your pride slightly to apologize to the lad, even if he doesn’t understand why you do so. Then again, I think you are man enough to handle the slight flogging of your soul.”

“I already apologized. I won’t repeat it and you can’t make me, Dumbledore.”

“No, I won’t. A forced apology isn’t an apology, especially if you don’t sincerely mean it.”

“I’ve done it once and once was enough. It’s not on my head he was too ignorant to know an apology for what it was.”

“Suit yourself, then. But I would consider the consequences. You do know that eventually, the lad will find out, about his parents, his destiny, including your parts in it.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” He hissed. Harry could only presume the look on his face. Dumbledore looked placid, almost amused.

“Hardly, Severus. I am, however, reminding you that actions - or in this case, inaction, have consequences even a Seer can’t foresee. Even with your keen, penetrating intellect and consideration of actions and consequences, you’re dealing with a child who could go many ways via action and inaction. You would be wise to consider such, with regards to the problems and potential problems we might face.”

“It’s been 10 years, Albus.” He took off again, with Dumbledore easily keeping up this time.

“And we could have a year - or a lifetime - before Voldemort shows his face again. Do you think this child, as courageous as he is, would stand before him, ready to do battle?”

The men strode to a stairwell, hidden well behind a tapestry of what appeared to be white poppies, interspersed with lilies. “He would be crushed like a beetle under a Dragon.”

“So you see the problems we shall face, correct?”

Snape stopped in front of an unadorned door. “You drive a hard bargain, Albus.” Snape pulled his wand from his cloak and motioned towards the door. It opened slightly, but he turned his back to it. “I’ll do it, but I don’t have to like it. And the boy is ignorant, no matter what you think.”

“Far from it, Severus.” The older man smiled and Harry couldn’t hold back his own, too. “I’m reminding you of your duty, and obligation, to Lily’s Memory and what you promised to me, to protect the child.” He pulled a sweet from his robes and popped it in his mouth. “And your duty, besides protecting him, is to educate him, as best as you can, so he can be ready, whenever the time comes.”

Albus turned to leave.

“Not like that’s not hard enough, considering who his father was.”

Albus stopped a few feet away, turning to regard the sullen man. “You put so much stock in nature, based on who is father was, when he died when the lad was just a toddler. You forget that nurture is more than nature, since Muggles raised him, and did a poor job of it.”

“You said it was best for him. Others in the Wizarding world offered their homes for him, _gratis_ , yet you refused their offers.”

“I have my reasons, reasons which will come later, if what I anticipate, will come.”

Dumbledore departed the hallway and Snape stepped into his quarters.

Harry pulled his face out of the Pensieve along with Kingsley.

“I never realized it, sir.”

“You remember that day, don’t you?” Kingsley asked quietly.

“I do. It was one of the first things he said to me, in front of everyone. He turned faintly pink for a moment. He asked me, ‘ _Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?’_ I still don’t get it, sir.”

“Severus was a maddeningly brilliant Wizard, with his head in his books constantly. But he also knew so many things by his voracious reading. He did apologize to you, Harry, even if you didn’t comprehend what he said.”

“I’m boggled, sir.”

“He apologized, using Victorian flower language. My _nne nne_ \- mum’s grandmother - spoke Igbo at home but has a tremendous fascination with flower language - and she taught me. He said, roughly, that he deeply mourned your Mum’s death. I bet when you didn’t say thank you, get got irate.”

“He did, and I didn’t understand why he was such a git to me from then on.”

“Now you know.”


	7. Paragraph Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Kingsley press on, cracking open another memory vial and Harry knows this one intimately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I’m back and finished with the really enormous, yet strangely gratifying RL project. Yeah to me for pulling a miracle out of my backside to get it finished the year, considering how gargantuan it was. So, in celebration, here is a chapter update for those who have been most patient with me to get it updated.
> 
> **A/N2:** Italics dialogue is from HPB, digital edition. I hope the few lines don’t annoy the nice folks at Scholastic, considering my solicitor says that what little I did falls under fair use. – _DG_

* * *

Harry lifted another vial out from the collection and looked at the stopper. It looked newer than some of the others, and the colors inside swirled like a potion about to bubble over. It drew his eyes more than any of the others in the collection.

“I don’t know about this one, sir, but let’s look at it.” Harry pulled the cork out of the stopper and poured the contents into the Pensieve. The colors looked like a storm and the mix of pinks and blues enchanted his eyes.

“Come Harry, let’s see what we have here. After this, you can call it a day if you want.”

“We should do more than four a day, sir, if we are to get through them fast.”

“And you’re not my only obligation, Harry. I have to meet with Hemera in 90 minutes and go over what she’s found out.”

“What is she doing, sir?”

“She’s been off chasing Dolohov.” Kingsley’s face went hard, harder than usual. “I didn’t want her to do it but she insisted. She’s been after him since the fighting ended.” Kingsley shrugged some and the tension in his backbone solidified. “She sent her Patronus yesterday, asking that we meet today at half past three. I won’t stand up her request, not unless I’m dead.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry turned back to the Pensieve and looked in. He landed with a thud and understood what was about to happen. This memory was going to suck.

“Where are we, Harry?” The surrounding stairwell was moving fast, like Snape was running as fast as he could. Deep, hard sucking breaths rattled the memory.

“It’s the Astronomy Tower the night Dumbledore was murdered.”

“And we’re going to witness it, aren’t we?”

“Yes, sir.”

They were floating up the stairs as fast as Snape was running, ignoring the slight washing out of the colors of the Astronomy stairs. Loud bangs and screaming followed but he kept going, up to the very top.

Snape casually blocked spells coming from above and below him, racing past those in his way without care or concern. He passed the groups that continued to fight, high stepping over a body splayed in the stairwell. He kept going, passing the barrier that had been erected in the stairs leading to the top of the tower. The Professor saw the heavy door and pushed it open, coming to a halt on the stone floor. There was Malfoy, four Death Eaters, and Dumbledore, leaning against the outer rampart.

Harry saw a faint sparkle showing in the perperhy of the memory. He knew where he was paralyzed but guessed Snape didn’t realize that he was there, under the Invisibility Cloak.

Dialogue echoed softly, words that Harry remembered in his nightmares.

_“Severus,”_

The memory moved forward and Harry chuckled when Snape shoved Malfoy roughly out of the way.

“You really can’t stand that young man, can you?”

“Frankly no, sir, because he’s a coward and a bully. I don’t like him at all, even if he refused to identify me when the snatchers caught us.”

_“Severus, please.”_

Harry wiped his eyes at seeing his mentor, and painfully human protector, begging not for his life, but for giving him a merciful death. He didn’t realize it then, but did now.

“I’d forgotten how much it hurt to hear him begging Snape. I didn’t realize that his begging was for mercy, not his life. I assumed it was murder.”

A pale hand came into view, steady as can be, pointing the wand at the frail wizard before him. _‘Avada Kedavra’_ he said with a touch of disgust and blew Dumbledore backwards over the ramparts of the castle wall.

_‘Out of here, quickly,’_ he implored the rest to depart. Where the others left first, he grabbed Malfoy by the scruff of the neck and shoved him through the doorway. The rest followed, legs churning behind them in their flight of escape to safety. Each step bounced the vision before them, hustling Draco down first, his wand held up shielding the terror stricken young man before him.

_‘It’s over, time to go!’_

They turned a corner and kept running, passing through witches and wizards dueling. On they ran, as fast as they could, to escape. He ignored Longbottom and kept pushing Malfoy ahead of him. They had to escape the confines of the castle walls and beyond, where they could apparate away to safety. The others, Greyback and the Carrows, were not his care or consideration – just the young man before him.

_‘The doors,’_ Malfoy yelled. Snape raised his wand – Harry was getting dizzy with the continued movements of the memory – and blasted the front doors of the castle, giving them egress. They kept running, ignoring everything and everyone behind him.

_‘Stupify,’_ one particular voice erupted in the darkness.

The memory stopped moving. _‘Run, Draco,’_ before Snape turned.

Harry saw himself and tried to shove down the wobbly feeling in his knees.

“Alright there, Harry?”

“It’s a little disconcerting, sir.”

“Just a little while longer, I reckon.”

“Yes, sir.”

_‘Cruc – ‘_ the other Harry tried to yell out. Snape blocked it easily.

An explosion erupted and Hagrid’s voice bellowed. The owner of the memories ignored it, waiting on the child to try again.

_‘Cruc – ‘_

_‘No unforgiveable curses from you, Potter.’_ Venom dripped from his voice, making Harry shudder. _‘You haven’t got the nerve or the ability – ‘_

_‘Incarc – ‘_ Snape blocked that spell too, a casual flick of his wand.

_‘Fight back!’_ Harry screamed at him. _‘Fight back, you cowardly – ‘_

_‘Coward, did you call me, Potter?’_ Snape's voice was booming in the night consumed with fire and blood. _‘Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?’_

_‘Stup – ‘_

_‘Blocked again and again and again, until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!’_ Snape deflected another curse, yelled into the darkness.

_‘It is time to be gone, before the Ministry turns up – ‘_

_‘Impedi –‘_ Snape looked for the new attackers, seeing Harry fall into the grass not by his wand.

_‘No!’_ He fired off a disarming spell at Amycus who was crucifying Harry in the grass. _‘Have you forgotten our orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord! We are to leave him. Go! Go!’_

The memory took off again, but the start of another particular curse making him stop and turn back towards the Harry kneeling in the grass. He motioned his wand again, brushing aside the curse aimed for him. He saw into Harry's mind and realized what he was planning. Death would be an easier avenue than using that knowledge against him.

_‘No, Potter!’_ The memory owner’s voice screamed and Harry was flying through the air, landing hard on the ground. He walked up to Harry, the fire to his left burning into his features. _‘You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you?’_

_‘Kill me then,’_ the lad displayed fury towards him. _‘Kill me like you killed him, you coward – ‘_

_‘Don't,’_ he screamed, _‘call me Coward!’_ He did the incantation of the spell at Harry, intending to give him a painful reminder of the events of the evening before a Hippogriff flew at him. He turned and ran for the boundaries of the castle, being chased by a Hippogriff. Within moments, he made the gates of the castle and Disapparated away.

“Harry, that might be the end of the memory,” Kingsley said quietly.

“No, I don’t think so. Something else happened, something he wants to account for. He wouldn’t show me what I already knew.”

The memory grew light again, this time in the darkness. They were following along at a fast clip, passing enormous gates.

“Not here again,” Harry groaned to himself but was compelled to keep watching.

Snape made the entry doors and went through, hustling up the stairs to the second floor. Death Eaters were loitering around, including Narcissa who was taking Draco away from the main dining room.

“Ah, Severus,” the voice of Harry’s year-long nightmares slithered across his ears. “Greyback tells me that you killed Dumbledore.” The werewolf was in the corner, picking his teeth with his grotty nails. Snape entered the room and stood at the other end of the enormous table. Sitting at the other end, a platter of food untouched before him, sat Voldemort, dressed in proper English robes.

“I did. Dumbledore died tonight by my hand.”

Voldemort lifted a gold goblet to his lips, wetting them slightly. “A toast, then, to Severus Snape, for doing what I could not.”

The memory turned around the entire room, viewing every possible Death Eater present in the room. Draco was noticeably absent, along with Narcissa, but Lucius was present, along with so many others.

“Hear, Hear!” voices erupted, a cadence that withered Harry’s bits even if it was over a year prior.

“Potter?”

“I was interrupted while trying to maim him tonight, My Lord. He did not perish by my wand, as you commanded, but if he’s missing his wand arm, it would have been easier for you. I was thwarted, unfortunately.”

“Pity you didn’t finish that task, Severus.” The sibilant voice whispered. “Now then,” Voldemort motioned towards the seat next to Snape, “come sit and dine, Severus. Since Dumbledore is now dead, we have other Muggle lovers in need of disposal if we are to purify Magical society, cleanse the Ministry, and expand our influence beyond these small shores.”

Severus sat down at the opposite end of the table and a platter of dinner appeared before him, along with a silver goblet containing elf-made wine. He turned his eyes down at the plate, keeping his eyes downcast in perceived supplication. 

“I want suggestions tonight on how we can kill the Minister and stage our coup. I want to have the Ministry under our control before I finally kill Harry Potter. I want this accomplished by the end of July.”

“My Lord, I might be of service to you,” Snape intoned, “if I might speak of it.”

The memory dimmed and Harry was pulled out with Kingsley.

“He lied to Voldemort,” Kingsley spoke up first. “He said he was trying to maim you. Rubbish. I know that spell.”

“Yeah, and it hurt like hell then, sir.”

“It induces migraines and gives the feeling of severing limbs, but it’s a spell. He never intended to maim you, only make it appear such.”

“I was angry, sir. I thought he had murdered Dumbledore.”

“In the eyes of the law, what he did was commit murder most foul. But the law cannot differentiate between murder and mercy.” Kingsley turned and Harry felt his back giving way. He’d take him up on the offer to not participate for the rest of the day.

“But between you and I, if it came down to a fast kill like an unforgiveable, or being mauled by a werewolf, there is no choice, at least to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, let’s take a couple hours break, so you can eat and we can meet Hemera. I dunno about you but I’ve been wrung out and hung up wet.”


	8. Addendum One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kingsley and Harry take a break and meet up with another member of the Aurors, who has some news for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Thanks for the patience on this. RL has been very busy the last 2 months with duties, obligations, and intrusions. In a fortnight, my schedule should abate where I can get back to writing more. – _DG_

* * *

Harry took the vial in his hands and put it back into the carrier, using magic to show that they had viewed the memories contained within. So far they’d only looked a few memories and yet what he’d witnessed within was harsh enough for almost anyone. How could they get through them all to do any bleeding good for those who were missing and probably dead?

“Are you worried about Mr. Cooper snooping through the vials?”

“Well, not just him, sir, but anyone who could come in here.”

Kingsley pulled his wand and put a protective enchantment over it, making the carrier obscure. “Now no one except me can access it.”

“That wasn’t a concealing charm, at least what I recognize, sir.”

“No, it wasn’t. That is family magic, passed down from my Nini to me when I was a lad. She taught me early on that there are those who would snoop and try to find ways to hurt you, betray you, and that your personal property and papers should be concealed from all but those you truly trust. Well, since the two Wizarding Wars and my time in the Aurors, there are only a small group of people I truly trust.” Kingsley let Harry go first out of the doors with him falling in beside him in the hallway. “Hemera Jones is one, and she’s my best friend. She’d take a wand to her head before betraying me. Gawain Robards, for another; he’s my mentor in the Aurors and while he’s a pain in the arse sometimes,”

Harry chuckled.

“He’s a good bloke and will make you an excellent Auror, as long as you listen to his instructions and do ask he asks of you.”

“Is that all of them, sir? Only two people?”

“Actually, no. There’s Minerva and Horace, which might not make a bit of sense to you but I’ve known him most of my life and while he has his faults and failings, he’s always been a huge help to me, and my career. As long as I don’t trust him with profitable Ministry Secrets, he’s good. You know well enough about Minerva. She’s from MLS and got me into the Aurors when I was still at Hogwarts, pushing me to be the best I could be, since Transfiguration was my weak subject in school.”

“Four doesn’t seem like many, sir.” They stopped at the lifts and Kingsley punched the up button. “I thought you’d have more people you trust.”

“I did.” The hallway was quiet. “Voldemort and his followers murdered the many of them during the first war, when they wouldn’t support Voldemort. Then when the Auror corps was eviscerated and the non-Purebloods were hunted down and murdered, I lost the rest of my friends. Horace and Hemera, Gawain and Minerva are all that remain, unfortunately. That’s why I trust Gawain to rebuild the Aurors and Hemera to track Dolohov. But she’s only one person and can’t chase down the surviving Death Eaters by herself.” Kingsley stepped into the lift with Harry following. “That’s why I need the ones from Hogwarts to sign up and help us catch the rest of the ones remaining, like Dolohov and Avery and Rabastan Lestrange, among the others. But since I’m acting Minister right now to a Ministry that is barely functioning, I can’t spend much time chasing the fugitives, not when there are so few of us remaining.”

“How many do you need, sir?”

“I need a hundred. I have twelve, thirteen if I count you. Rebuilding the Auror Corps before the decimation will take some work.”

“Bugger.”

“Exactly. There is much to do and little time to achieve it.”

The lift opened and the men stepped out, with Kingsley leading the way to the fireplaces. “Where are we going, sir? I thought we were meeting her in the canteen.”

“Leaky Cauldron. She picked the place.”

“Damn it! I don’t have any galleons on me, sir.”

“Tom knows how to handle that,” he said offhandedly before stepping in and being whisked away from the Ministry. Harry stepped in and yelled, _The Leaky Cauldron_ and he was swirling among the warmth and ashes, landing two seconds after taking off from the Ministry. He stepped out and saw Kingsley standing by the fireplace, waiting on his safe arrival.

“Sir, we could have walked from the Ministry, as close as it is.”

“There is considerable risk, at least right now for both of us.” Kingsley made his way towards a back booth and Harry followed, not seeing the witch sitting there until he was even with the table. He stopped and kept his mouth shut and his wand firmly in his hand.

“So this is Potter, huh? I thought he’d be taller.”

Kingsley stood there, waiting quietly.

The witch in the booth smiled. “The first time I met your nini, she said that my parents didn’t love me because my arse wasn’t as round as a set of quaffles.”

Kingsley smiled and stowed his wand while the witch in the booth came out and hugged Kingsley like they had not seen each other in years.

“Hemera, this is Harry Potter. Harry, Hemera Jones. She should have played Quidditch as a beater for the English team if she hadn’t taken a header and decided to become an Auror.”

“Instead, I coached my cousin her last two years and she’s the shining success of the family.” She pulled the cider towards her and took a long pull. “Bloody good beater she is. I think I’ve gotten hurt more than she has in this sodding job and her job is supposedly the tougher one.”

“Who is your cousin?” Harry asked while Kingsley was taking off his cloak.

“Gwenog Jones, captain and starting beater for the Holyhead Harpies and one wicked arsed witch on a broom.”

“That’s your cousin? She’s amazing on a broom!”

“When she was a skinny runt on two legs, her brothers and cousins would pick on her. The day she picked up the beater’s bat was the day everyone left her alone.” She pushed a cider across the table to Kingsley and watched him smirk before taking a long pull from it. 

“You know me so well.”

“They quit for good after she’d flog them with a bludger, flying as fast as she could and aiming that beater’s bat one-handed.” She looked Harry once over. “I didn’t know what to order for you, Potter, because I didn’t know you were tagging along,” she gave Kingsley a look and he put down his cider.

“Harry inherited a trove of memories from someone and we’re going through them to see if we can account for anyone who is on the Missing Person’s list. I dunno if we’ll ever get to the bottom of the list because it’s so long.”

“How many?”

“There’s about a hundred and we hope that they will give some accounting. So far, we have accounted for six missing people and an additional twenty-five to track down and arrest, if they are still alive. There’s one particular memory that will bolster us when we’re presenting parchment to the remaining Wizengamot for indictment for participating in the coup.”

“At least your end is productive,” Hemera grumped before taking a long pull from her cider. “I spent all my waking hours chasing leads on that bastard Dolohov and bugger disappeared. I’ve not had a lead on him in ten sodding days. I think the bastard done a bunk and left England.”

“So what have you been doing the last week? I thought you were supposed to check in every 3 days.”

Hemera raised her hand and old Tom scampered over. “Two large bowls of lamb curry, and Potter, what do you want?”

“I’ll have one too. I am peckish.”

“Make it three with two more ciders and a butterbeer for this one.”

“Mister Potter can have a Firewhiskey, on the house, if he likes,” Tom spoke up.

“Butterbeer is fine. Kingsley and I are working this afternoon.”

“Suit yourself, Mr. Potter.” Tom went back to the bar, leaving the three alone.

“I know what you’re doing. I taught you that stalling technique when Nini was being rude to you growing up. Now that you’ve bought some time,” Kingsley’s deep voice and sharp look kept Harry quiet, “what’s going on?”

“Fine. I ran across some others while out chasing Dolohov. I let them go.”

“Who?” His voice demanded answers.

“You told me when you sent me out two days after the fall of You-know-who to chase him and only him. That’s what I did.”

“Who?”

“While I was chasing a lead on Dolohov, I ran across Rabastan Lestrange. Bastard tried to kill me and I think I wounded him before he disappeared. I tracked him three days before I lost the trail down in West Sussex.”

“Did you come across anyone else while out chasing Dolohov and Lestrange?”

“Yes and I left them alone.”

“Who?”

“I saw Selwyn, Travers, and Vincent Crabb in a Norfolk Pub. I walked in and they apparated away the second I made eye contact. But you said to let them be if it wasn’t Dolohov. So I went to the bar and next thing I know, I was dueling Lestrange. He nailed one Muggle, probably killing them, but I know I wounded the sod. He apparated away and I chased him ‘til lost him. I only had to obliviate the pub owner and two patrons. My report was turned in last time I was in the Ministry.”

“Doubt he’ll quietly crawl away and die in agony,” Kingsley muttered. “So we still have our work cut out for us. That’s what I expected, frankly.”

“So what do we do now? You’re too busy trying to rebuild the Ministry to chase down anyone on the list,” she spoke quietly, “and Merlin knows that I can only do so much.”

Kingsley looked at Harry sitting next to him before turning his attention back to his best friend across the bench. “Well, Potter is an apprentice and once we get through the treasure trove of memories this week, he’s going to be your little shadow until the 24th of August. He can be my shadow until then.”

“That’s a particular date. You have something in mind?”

“Potter, you can’t share this. Got it?” Harry muttered in affirmation. “I’ve gotten notices that if Hogwarts opens for term in the fall that there is a substantiated threat of attack. I don’t know who or how or when, just that it’s a credible threat.”

“Shite,” Hemera growled before taking a long pull from her cider. “You want me on station at Hogwarts, don’t you? You know that will be a sodding nightmare for a duty. It’ll take four days just to erect Auror protection on the property, much less the grounds.”

“You’re not going to be alone, Hemera.”

“Kingsley, we have 12 people left in the bloody department. How the hell can you expect that for all of Hogwarts?”

Kingsley motioned his wand and their booth was sealed off from the rest of the pub. “13 if you count Potter as an apprentice, along with a few more of the survivors from Hogwarts.”

“We can’t catch the missing Death eaters if I’m on bloody station at Hogwarts for Months!” Her voice grew louder. “And besides, they’re kids! They don’t know procedure and will get my arse blasted if there’s a fight.”

“You won’t be alone. I’m pulling some from Magical Law to stay on station. You’re Senior now, along with Gawain so you’ll supervise operations. And you think I’d give you kids who don’t know how to fight dirty, or be willing to take a spell to save your arse? Those kids put up with so much shite from the Carrows that I can’t even document all of the abuse they suffered last year.

“Besides, Minerva is still Magical Law and won’t let you fight single-handedly if there is a problem. Every single professor left” Harry heard the implication, “has given me their word that their first duty are to those kids. They’ll fight harder to protect them than anything else.”

“Kids, Kingsley.”

He ignored her protests. “Your cover is that you’ll be the Defense against the Dark Arts professor.”

“Oh bloody hell no. There’s no bloody way I can teach these kids, especially the youngest ones. They’ll expect me to censor myself and treat the kids with soft gloves. Besides, I’m pants at teaching.”

“You will because those kids need you and the others to look after them, especially for now. You’ll still have to help out with the department but I know you can manage it.”

“Fine. I’ll do it but if this goes tits up, - “

“It won’t, because you are an excellent Auror.”

“Fine. And you, Potter?”

“I’ll help as you need. My friends will be there too.”

“Who?” Harry knew what she was asking.

“I know Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood will be there, and probably Hermione, too.”

“I thought you said Granger would be going into the Aurors in September?” She ignored Harry and the other two shared pointed looks.

Harry interrupted. “She said last year she wouldn’t be an Auror. She told Scrimgeour she would refuse. She has other plans, I reckon.”

“I didn’t ask you, Potter,” Hemera bit back. Harry bit his cheek to keep from sassing her back.

“I saw Weasley and Granger off at the Ministry for Australia, two weeks after I contacted Potter about being the beneficiary of this particular estate. Per Ministry law, we couldn’t give him the Will for thirty days, but in reality I didn’t have time to deal with the problem then. Suffice to say, when I spoke with Weasley a fortnight ago, he said he would become an apprentice once he returns from Australia. Granger wouldn’t answer me so I’m not expecting her to do so. Besides, when I saw Granger, she didn’t look like she could pass the Auror physical, much less new healer evaluations.”

“So she’s going to be a pain in my ass at Hogwarts, isn’t she?”

“Actually,” Harry ignored Hemera’s fierce glare, “that would probably be Ginny. She’s the one who gave the Carrows fits, refusing to conform.”

“Anyway,” Kingsley interrupted. “That’s your next assignment, starting August. If you’ve not caught Dolohov by then, leave off and we’ll hand it over to Smythe and Williamson.”

“You sure do drive a hard bargain, Kingsley.”

“Admit it, you like it.”

“When do I get Potter?”

“He’s yours when we’re done with the debriefings. That should be no later than a fortnight.” Kingsley looked at Harry and gave him that look, the one that Remus used to give when he was mucking things up. “Harry, you’re still my protégé, but you will obey her like you would me. Don’t give her much cheek and follow her instructions. She’s a better Auror than I am, and fiercely loyal. She’s a warrior second to none and if you’re going to be an Auror with us, you’re going to be above reproach. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry bit his tongue.

“Problem, Potter?”

Harry looked at the witch across the table. She was sitting forward, wearing Dragon skin and some scorch marks in the jacket but also her eyes were clear and focused.

“I don’t know you so I don’t trust you. But I trust Kingsley and he’s given me his word you’re sorted.”

The formidable witch leaned further over the table, bringing Harry’s face in closer.

“I’ll earn it. But I’m still your Senior and you’re my apprentice so when I say move, you move. You might have killed that fucker Voldemort – “

Harry didn’t point out that what happened wasn’t murder but the serious look on the witch’s face kept his mouth shut.

“And you might be the savior of the Wizarding world, if Kingsley is right, which he is, but you cross me and I’ll put you in the Thickey ward. Got it?”

“Sorted.” Harry refused to give her any satisfaction in knowing that was what he wanted from her.

“I’ve buried too many Aurors because of this coup and I’ll be arsed if I have to do it anymore. So you follow my instructions and you’ll live to see 19.”

Tom came over with more cider, butterbeer, and three bowls of curry. “Enjoy,” he croaked before leaving them to their meal.

“Now that the unpleasantness is over,” Kingsley pulled a bowl to him, “we can talk about what we’ve discovered from the memories.”

“Maybe they can help you track Dolohov,” Harry added before tucking in.


	9. Addemdum Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Kingsley return to the memories and see one that Harry didn't expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Wow. Between holidays and illness, time flew. I do hope to get on a more consistent posting schedule for the next few months. _\- DG_

* * *

“So that will be my senior once we’re finished with these memories?”

“That’s my idea. My hands are tied by the small number of people left alive after the coup. She was right in that I am too busy rebuilding the Ministry and other bureaucratic nightmares to go hunt the rogue Death Eaters except in my spare time. And while she has the time to go track them down and bring them in one way or another, she has greater duties elsewhere shortly.”

The lift doors opened and Kingsley tapped his wand on the blank touch plate. It moved and they were heading back down to the Department of Mysteries to catalogue more.

“You said she was going to be on station at Hogwarts. Will I be there with her too, shadowing her?”

“You’ll find that Hemera rarely stops. Even if you’re shadowing her at Hogwarts, she’ll also drag you out for another four hours to go investigate something else. And if you are with her at Hogwarts, you’re not there for a tickle and a leg over with Miss Weasley. You’re there to work so you’re going to be under charms to be invisible to the students. And when you do get to “visit” it will be limited hours and with a purpose, not for a session of _how’s your father_.”

“Oh.”

“You will have the occasional furlough and liberty but this job is mostly on duty or available for duty, at least for the time being. It’s a hard life and harder on families who don’t understand your obligations to the job. It’s not glamourous and certainly can’t share the grotty details with anyone except spouses and even that’s limited. Most spouses aren’t interested in knowing after they hear about how rotten our job is at times.”

“Then it’s probably a good thing that we don’t have one, right, sir?”

“It’s the opposite, as I’ve found. Even if we can’t share all the details with our spouses, having a reason to live, keep going, and a reason for doing this job besides noble yet empty reasons is why we get out of bed in the morning. Having someone to go home to means so much when you’re out in the field, cold and wet and missing someone. It keeps you from being a liability, but as an asset.”

Kingsley pushed the door open to the department and wound his way back to the Pensieve Memory analysis department. Sure enough, his dome wasn’t tampered with. He pulled his wand from his robes before Harry put his arm across his chest. “Are you sure it’s safe? I mean, that could be a similar bit of magic by someone else.”

“Good call, Potter. I’ll verify it.” Kingsley did a complicated bit of magic, of which Harry picked up the movements but not the verbal incantation. It glowed faintly red before turning cloud grey again. “You were right. Someone did tamper with it. But it was innocuous and would only result in a case of the giggles. It’s probably someone in the department playing a prank.”

Harry motioned his wand and erected a shield charm. “Now do it, sir. I rather be safe than otherwise.”

Kingsley removed the protection spells and felt the prank release, covering the room in innocuous magic. He stifled the giggles crashing into him but heard Harry erupting. “Potter!”

“Can’t help it, sir.” He kept giggling. “The shield wasn’t large enough.”

“Did you shield yourself too?”

“No, sir,” he bit out one word at a time. Kingsley pointed his wand at Harry and did the counter charm and Harry quit giggling. “No matter what, always protect yourself first. No more martyr business, understand?”

Harry was bent over, trying to catch his breath. “Yes, sir. Understood.”

Kingsley removed the other protection, giving Harry time to recompose himself. He finally did, looking sheepish. “Lesson understood, sir. For such a harmless spell, my ribs are still aching.”

“It only seems innocent. There’s a list of witches and wizards who have died from that particular spell. You need a second person to cancel it because the wizard afflicted can’t stop it. It’s not a pleasant way to perish.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Now, let’s see what we see next. Pick one, Harry.”

Harry selected the next unsealed vial, looking grey and black swirls inside the tempered glass. “Better this one than anything else.” He broke the wax on the cork and dumped the contents into the Pensieve. The cloudy memories swirled and raged some. 

Harry stuck his face inside the Pensieve and fell in and landed hard on a wooden bench at the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. The skies were grey and the wind blew hard. While he was inside of Professor Snape’s memory, he pulled his cloak closer, imaging the wind and chill blowing through him.

“When are we, Harry?”

A maroon and gold shape flashed across his vision, followed by a Green and silver blur. He looked up into the swirling cloudy skies and saw a small glint of light reflect a considerable distance up in the skies. 

“Sir, this might be from my first year, if I’m guessing. It might not be a memory worth watching.”

“Nonsense, we’ll watch it and then have it finished. We won’t miss much for spending five to ten minutes watching Gryffindor and Slytherin match skills on the Quidditch pitch.”

 _“Move your bum, Johnson!”_ Wood’s voice echoed through time and Harry smiled. “ _You’re better than that!”_

“Sir, it’s my first year. I remember this match. It’s the first one I ever played in. I had a broom and Wood gave me simple instructions: find the snitch. I was matched against some bloke named Higgs out there, flying so high and I tried so hard to ignore how bitterly cold it was and how brilliant it was, being that high up on a broom. It was magical, sir.”

Repetitive chanting broke into the memory, along with Snape’s intense focus on Harry, flying high up in the skies. 

“What happened here, Harry?”

“I remember that I was flying, shadowing Higgs up above the pitch, and then I thought I saw the Snitch. I took off after it and was close before that sod Flint crashed into me. So I went back to circling the pitch when my broom lurched. I didn’t realize that Quirrell was controlling it. I only knew that it was trying to throw me off. There for a while, the three of us thought that Snape was trying to curse my broom. But right then, I was terrified of losing my grip on the broom.”

Harry tried to look at Snape’s hands and saw they were white-knuckled, holding his wand in a death grip, not realizing that the culprit was sitting in front of him, using dark magic to try and throw him from his broom, all those cold years ago.

Harry watched the stands in front of him and saw Hermione knock Quirrell over, breaking his eye contact with Harry and the wobbling of his broom stopped. Harry laughed slightly, knowing what was about to happen.

“What’s funny?” Kingsley asked.

“It’s only Hermione’s about to set Snape on fire. I dunno if he ever realized who did that to him. Then again maybe he did, considering how cruel he was to her after that day.” Harry watched as Snape’s cloak hem was on fire and he danced away from it, not seeing that Hermione had scooped the fire from him and encased it in a jam jar in her cloak.

“She was a frightening witch, even then, Kingsley. I’d have soiled myself even thinking of setting a professor on fire, as much as I wanted to do it to Snape for those years.”

“So who was it who cursed your broom?”

“The bloke in the turban. He was the Defense against Dark Arts professor that year. It seems Snape didn’t trust him and kept an eye on him. Too bad that Quirrell manipulated things, courtesy of Voldemort, to get down to the chamber where Dumbledore had brilliantly hidden the Philosopher’s stone. Bastard manipulated everything to get me to fetch it, trying to be reborn again via good magic.”

Harry pulled his head out of the memory, smiling at it. “I wonder if Snape realized about that particular snitch.”

“What about the snitch, Harry?”

“Oh, I caught it, but with my mouth. Nearly swallowed it and that’s how Dumbledore used that Snitch with their flesh memories to hide – “ Harry broke off what he was going to say, knowing it lead to darker things he wasn’t quite ready to discuss with anyone.

“Hide? Hide what?”

“Nothing, sir. Forget I mentioned it.” He used his wand to suck up the memory into the vial and marked it as viewed.

“Harry,” Kingsley’s voice dropped timbre and sounded authoritarian. “What was hiding in the snitch?”

“Sir, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Kingsley stepped in front of Harry, attempting to look imposing. “Try me.”

“I can’t, sir. It’s too dangerous.”

Kingsley deflated. “You don’t trust me. That’s fine. But I hope you do tell me someday, even if I’m on my deathbed.”

“I dunno if I’ll ever tell anyone,” he said to himself. _'How can I explain I willingly went to my death, guided by my parents, Godfather, and their best friend?_ ’ he thought with considerable melancholy.

“Harry?”

“Sir?”

“You do realize you will have to learn to trust people again, right? No man can go through life by himself, not without dying entirely too early from being absolutely miserable.”

“I do trust people, sir. But the list is very short, maybe not distinguished, and certainly requires things that most people lack.” Harry looked up at the older wizard before him, knowing what Kingsley was fishing for. “Too many in my life wanted me for their own reasons, and so many have used me to get it or get out of things. I don’t have the patience now for anyone who might betray me. I can’t do it anymore.”

“I will earn your trust, harry.”

“Sir, it’s not like you can put galleons on a scale and at a point, it balances out. It’s not like that at all,’ Harry felt his throat itching and his eyes stinging. “Ron gave me his sandwich when I first met him. Sure we have our moments but he’s always been there. Hermione lied for me to keep me out of trouble, sir, invoking McGonagall’s ire. Neville’s stood up to me as often as he’s stood up for me. Luna? Luna’s stood next to me when no adults were there to believe me.” Harry rubbed his face across his robes. “And you want to walk in, after a month, and expect me to trust you, when I don’t know you, only from what Remus and Dumbledore have said about you? I’m sorry, sir, but that’s not good enough, not yet at least.”

“We have time, Potter.”

“I’ve died twice,” he whispered before turning back to the collection of memories and plucking another vial out. “How many died to give me borrowed time?”


	10. Addendum Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has an accidental discussion with Kingsley about what happened in the Forbidden Forest and watches a memory that explains more of his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Excerpts of dialogue are from OotP, digital edition. - _DG_

* * *

“We have time, Potter.”

“I’ve died twice,” he whispered before turning back to the collection of memories and plucking another vial out. “How many died to give me borrowed time?”

“I dunno, Harry, but by saying that you’re responsible for their deaths, by saying that they had no choice to step in and fight on your behalf is unhealthy. You aren’t responsible for them, or their deaths. Fred, Remus, Tonks, even little Colin Creevy. You didn’t’ force them to step up to the line and cross it. You didn’t put a wand to their back and make them die for you. That mindset harms you more than anything else. It’s called co-dependency and harmful to you.”

“And who else could have stopped him, huh?” Harry yelled.

“Plenty could have at that point, frankly. Things took a turn after Hagrid brought you back. Spells that would have been devastating were less potent. Spells flew wide or didn’t work after you returned; Longbottom fighting off the spell that nearly killed him to kill the snake. You might not believe it, but something happened and it turned everything.”

“It’s not true!”

“Isn’t it? Everything that those idiots in black threw at us wasn’t fatal. Every curse, every jinx lacked the power. Even the blasting curse that Voldemort threw at us when Lestrange died wasn’t deadly, like it should have been. Someone’s blood sacrifice kept all of us alive. I think it was you. Longbottom said you told him to kill the snake. He did. Weasley broke the charm Voldemort laid on the crowd announcing your death. And yet here you stand, hale if haunted.”

Harry kept silent.

“I think I can piece it all together. You went out to confront him, alone. Something made you stay your wand. He brings you back dead, yet you’re not. Everything goes sideways when Longbottom kills the snake and when Lestrange fell, there you were.”

Harry stood silent, keeping his mind closed unlike the Occlumency lessons from so long ago. How easy it was now, when those lessons so long ago proved impossible? How simple was it to turn off everything in his mind, leaving it a blank space when the temptations of things he wanted to know – forbidden knowledge that seduced him into betrayal – now lay behind him?

“And you’re refusing to speak of what happened in those two hours when you were gone. I can guess that you went out there, intending for Voldemort to kill you and something _strange_ happened and you didn’t die.”

Harry mentally locked down every single virtual door in his head, losing himself in pleasant memories that were mist now.

“You’re not going to say anything, are you?”

“No, sir.”

“I could make you.”

“That would be a really bad idea. Some secrets have to be kept.”

“They aren’t yours, are they?”

“I’m will not tell you, sir.”

“What if I offer to take an Unbreakable Vow?”

“I still won’t tell you. This secret will die with me.”

The two men stood eyeing one another before Kingsley broke contact first. “Fine then. Pick another vial, Potter.”

Harry took a deep breath before picking up one at random. He poured it into the Pensieve and fell in, to avoid the disappointing look on Kingsley’s face.

“Shit.”

Kingsley fell in after him and looked around the Hogwarts grounds. “Have an idea on this one?”

Harry saw the four men who impacted his life in disparate ways standing by a tree near the black lake. “This might be the memory that gets me thrown out of Snape’s office.”

“And that is?”

“This might be the day that Professor Snape destroyed my mother’s friendship.”

Harry stood watching the scene unfolding, with the four young men who would torment Snape for years and him retaliating. Sure enough he saw them out of the corner of the vision memory, probably on the periphery of Snape’s vision in keeping an eye on them. He slowly pulled his wand from his robes, pressing it close to his hip.

_"This'll liven you up, Padfoot," said James quietly. "Look who it is..."_

The hands in front of Harry's face was stowing the Owl revision sheet into his bag and walking away from the four in question.

_"All Right, Snivellus?" said James loudly._

Harry watched Snape react, intending to cast a spell towards his dad. The bag fell and the owner's pallid hand was halfway up when the wand was yanked out of his hand and sent flying.

Harry wanted to groan because Sirius thought it was funny.

_"Impedimenta!" the spell hit and Snape was thrown backwards away from the fallen wand._

"I forgot how James and Sirius were tossers then."

"It took a while for me to come to accept that they weren't kind to Snape. He earned much of it but they didn't help."

Snape looked around at the gathering of students watching the scene unfolding and no one intervening. So many eyes were forced his way, because of the actions involved.

Pettigrew was in the background, watching with intense interest while Lupin sat with his nose in his book, intentionally refusing to intervene. Harry forgot how passive Lupin could be when it came to his friends.

His father and Godfather were looming, wands raised, pointed at them. Only now did he realize how troubling they were towards one ostracized teenager.

_"How'd the exam go, Snivelly?" said James._

_"I was watching him, his nose touching the parchment," said Sirius viciously. "There'll be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word."_

The vision went dark red for a moment. The owner's focus narrowed at the two looming young men with the laughter ragging the edges of vision. Pettigrew's laughter came through.

The vision shuddered, Snape trying to mentally throw the spell off _. "You wait," he panted towards the messy haired Potter standing over him. "You - wait!"_

_"Wait for what?" said Sirius coolly. "What're you going to do Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?"_

Snape erupted with curses and curse words, all falling impotent since his wand was feet away.

"I forgot too how vile he could be when he was wound up."

_"Wash out your mouth," said James coldly. "Scourgify!"_

The memory shook as pink soap bubbles made Snape gag.

_"Leave him ALONE!"_

Snape turned, spitting soap from his mouth, and saw Lily walking with a purpose towards the group. While Snape had eyes for her, he saw on the side that his father ruffled his hair.

"Bit of a git, considering," Harry said to himself.

"He was, like many at that age. I'm sure you put your foot in your mouth sometimes too."

"I was too busy being mental at that age."

_"All Right, Evans?" said James._ Harry wanted to fake-gag like he knew he'd have to with his best friends once they returned from Australia.

_"Leave him alone," Lily repeated._ Harry saw the disgust on her face towards his father and he wanted to chuckle. But then Snape looked lower, towards her legs and then up at her chest and Harry felt sick.

_"What's he done to you?"_

_"Well," Harry grew impatient waiting on his Dad to finally answer, "it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean..."_

Snape fought against the spell again, trying to escape the laughter that sounded impossibly loud in the memory. Lupin still refused to intervene, with his nose in a book.

_"You think you're funny," she said coldly._ Harry shuddered since Ginny's voice took on that frosty chill the few times she got irate at him. _"But you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone."_

_"I will if you go out with me, Evans," said James quickly. "Go on... go out with me and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again."_

The memory wobbled and pink soapsuds dribbled down the front of Snape's robes as he crab crawled towards his wand.

_"I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid," said Lily._

_"Bad luck, Prongs," said Sirius briskly._

Teenage Snape closed his hands around his wand and pointed his wand at James, cutting a gash on his cheek and letting blood flow. James turned and with his wand in his hand, lifted Snape up by his ankles.

"Good thing I can handle the change in viewpoint," Kingsley interrupted.

"Not a problem with me, sir, as a Seeker."

"Why has it gone dark?"

"I seem to recall that levicorpus in this moment made Professor Snape's robes fall over his head, exposing his pants."

Cheers erupted around in the darkness. Even in the darkness Harry knew that Snape was humiliated.

_"Let him down!"_ Lily's voice echoed in the memory.

_"Certainly," said James_ and the viewpoint changed again, where Snape was crumpled into the ground. One wand up towards the gathering and Sirius froze him in place, and the viewpoint drifted skyward. Even under the spell, the memory shuddered, like Snape was fighting it with everything he could.

"It's only now I realized the bullying," Harry said to himself.

_"LEAVE HIM ALONE!"_ Lily’s voice erupted in the memory almost too loud to their ears.

_"Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you."_

_"Take the curse off him, then!"_ Harry soaked up each syllable, even if it was in defense of a man he loathed and a father he loved.

_"There you go," he said_ while Snape stood from the ground, a bit wobbly after everything he'd went through in the last five minutes. _"You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus - "_

The memory went red and opaque, like Harry witnessed once. Harry recognized it at once, where a memory was tampered with.

"Thank you," Snape said.

The memory resolved into clarity. “He altered the memory. I can’t believe he did that.”

“What really happened?” Kingsley did a complicated motion, freezing the memory in time.

“He called my Mum a Mudblood. That was, from what I understand it, the final moment that Mum tolerated. Remus said that she never spoke to him again outside of class. But then being insulted in front of everyone probably would anger me too.”

“I’m not surprised. Snape had a bit of a temper when it came to public humiliation.”

“He’s not the only one,” Harry said to himself.

“So can we continue?”

Harry looked at his Mum and saw the fury etched on her face. “Sure. Let’s finish this.”

Kingsley did the counter-charm and the memory continued.

_"Fine," she said coolly. "I won't bother in the future."_ Snape watched her walk off, his wand in hand, keeping a watch on Potter and Black and Pettigrew.

_"Apologize to Evans!"_

_"I don't want you to make him apologize," Lily shouted, rounding on James. "You're as bad as he is."_

_"What!" yelped James. "I'd NEVER call you a you-know-what!"_

_"Messing up your hair because you think it looks like you've just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can - I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me sick."_

Snape watched Lily run off, her hair blowing behind her, with James trying to get her to turn around.

_"Who wants me to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"_

Snape lifted his wand and blocked the first spell but he was no match for three of them, including Pettigrew. They forced his pants down and Snape rushed to cover himself, trying to hide under his robes.

"That's enough, James," Lupin's voice drifted across the memory. "Tormenting him any further will only blow back on you." Lupin had his hands on James and Sirius’ shoulders. “Give him his pants back.”

James walked over and handed Snape his grey dingy pants. "Lily's right. Tell the elves to wash your pants and put some trousers on. No one wants to see your bits."

"I hate you." Scorn dripped from every word.

"Feelings's mutual." James returned a scowl before turning away, laughing with Sirius. Peter scowled but didn’t lift a hand. Remus went to collect his things but watching Snape from behind the other two.

"Bastards," Snape yelled at their retreating backs.

"Maybe you are, but my parents were married first," James cheeked back and Sirius laughed too. Pettigrew turned to look at Snape and Harry saw a look shared between the two of them.

"That’s enough," Harry pulled out of the memory. "I've seen too much."

The two of them pulled out of the memory and Harry retrieved the contents of the vial and corked it.

"Problem, Harry?"

"No wonder why Snape was so irate with me. He interrupted my Dad humiliating him further for being called on his bullying.”

"Does it bother you that James had a cruel streak towards Severus?”

"Yes, No, I dunno. I knew dad was a bully but I never realized the mean streak he had. Remus told me of Mum and how amazing she was, standing up for those who couldn't or wouldn't stand up for themselves but Dad...." Harry looked at the older Wizard with him, "Dad was an asshole and Snape called my Mum a Mudblood. She quit being his friend that day.”

“She stepped in and he called her that? It sounds like James wasn’t the only asshole of the bunch. Then again, most wizards are at 15. You probably were too.”

Harry thought back to when he was mean to Cho when she was defending her friend. Hermione had scarred Marietta, even if it seemed justified at the time.

"I was more like Remus, standing aside like a bystander when people not me did stuff." Harry sighed, recalling the countless times he’d used an Unforgiveable curse, especially the last time. "Maybe I am like my Dad that way, with a mean streak."


	11. Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns how serious Kingsley is about his actions during the Battle of Hogwarts and also the aftermath of his mum breaking a friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** A very late Holiday gift for those on follow. Life and three fests interrupted but now that they are wrapped up, enjoy another update. _\- DG_
> 
> * * *

"Maybe I am like my Dad that way, with a mean streak."

“How many times have you intentionally hexed another student out of sheer cheek?”

Harry stopped and turned to the older wizard before him. “Aside from Draco Malfoy, who was complicit in Dumbledore’s murder and nearly killing my best friend, only Death Eaters but no other students.”

“No one? Are you sure?”

“Practice with others in Dumbledore’s Army was practice and not malicious or with cheek.”

“Then I fail to see your mean streak, Harry.”

“But then there’s Draco Malfoy. The git got under my skin the first time I met him, being poncy and a right foul git. He tried to turn me off being friends with Ron and continued to be nasty to me, and my friends, for the entire time we were at Hogwarts.”

“So did you ever hurt him without cause or provocation?”

“No but I snooped on him a few too many times and got me nearly kicked out often enough.”

“Did you ever intentionally hurt him, with malice and cruelty?”

Harry thought back to the fight in the haunted toilet, the one time when Hermione brewed Polyjuice their second year, and where he met Moaning Myrtle.

“No, but I did nearly kill him with a spell I didn’t know how bad it was.”

“Care to explain?”

Harry sighed. “Well, I was going off to confront Malfoy for all of the odd happenings sixth year. Katie had been cursed, Ron being poisoned twice and nearly dying the second time, and him being sneaky. I dunno. He saw that Katie had returned and stopped, like he’d seen an Inferus. He turned and ran off and I went off after him, to confront him, because I _just knew_ that he was responsible.”

“And was he?”

“Yes, he was. Dumbledore pointed out to Malfoy that he was being sloppy in trying to kill him, and that he could have been put under protection. He’d not hear anything of it. But anyway, when I went to confront him, he turned his wand on me and we dueled in the bathroom.”

“And?”

“I hit him with a spell and nearly eviscerated him. Snape was there straightaway and saved his life, and I was upset for nearly killing Malfoy with a spell I didn’t know how deadly it was.”

“Is that why you are so hesitant to use anything stronger than first year spells against anyone?”

Harry cleared his mind again, trying to forget using Unforgiveables on multiple occasions in the last year.

“I wouldn’t say I hesitate, sir, especially when its mission related and there’s a job to do.”

“So you have used them.” Kingsley’s statement wasn’t a question.

“I have. I’m not proud of using them, but I’ve only done them when they were the last resort.”

Kingsley stepped close and Harry refused to back down. “When you sign that contract as a trainee Auror with me, you will not use them, unless it’s in defense of your own life, the life of another Auror, or a civilian. There is absolutely no reason to use _Cruciatus_ or _Imperius_ on anyone – ever. But for the last one – there will be times you’re called on to use it – but only with express permission from me, Director Robards, or Senior Auror Jones. Pull that stunt without express permission and I won’t care that you took down Voldemort; I’ll strip you of your badge immediately. No amount of justification or rationalization makes you the deciding judge on when to use them.” Kingsley huffed. “Sorted?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry didn’t break contact until Kingsley looked away.

“Now that subject is settled, let’s look at another.”

Harry picked up the next vial in the tray and cracked the seal on it. After the last memory he was a little apprehensive at what he would find in here.

He poured it into the Pensieve and put his face in, waiting for the feeling of falling without concern for the very sudden stop that usually ended falling.

“I know this room.”

“I do too.”

Horace Slughorn stood at the front of the dark bricked classroom, with his enormous moustache, corpulent belly, rich deep green robes, and a matching green hat. His hair seemed a bit darker than when Harry knew him, and he still bellowed like before. Yet at the front, on opposite sides of the potions classroom sat his Mum along with another witch. On the other side was Snape, sitting by himself, at the front table. Harry looked around and saw James and Sirius in the far back, with Remus and Peter at the table next to them. They were passing notes with their wands, and occasionally sending a flying parchment to Snape at the front. When he wouldn’t take it, they charmed it to poke him in the ear until he banished them.

“Today we have the instructions for brewing an antidote to Pensioner’s Pneumonia. It’s not set in the Ministry curriculum but since it’s a poisoner’s favorite general potion, you should know how to brew an antidote. I have high hopes for this class and their NEWTS, which is why I am teaching ahead and away from the materials set out. It’s tricky and wicked hard, especially if you don’t get it just right in the first three steps. You don’t know if you’ve brewed it correctly until administering it the patient – and if they perish, you brewed it wrong.”

Harry went back to where his Dad sat along with his best mate. They weren’t paying attention, as Harry learned to expect.

“So I told Evans that if she’d go out with me, I’d have the elves make her favorite dish. And you know what she said?”

“Did she make a dog’s dinner of it?”

“You’re a riot, Sirius. But she did. She looked at me like I had fallen face first into Dragon dung. Imagine that! You’d think I was still the tosser I was a month ago.”

“Well, she did say you had a very big head.”

“Hush, both of you,” Remus whispered harshly at the silly lads next to him. “I don’t care that you’re a whiz, Sirus, or that your father wrote the book on these potions, James, but shut your gobs. Not all of us have galleons galore to coast, or that you know this stuff better than you know what Alice Selwyn has under her robes.”

“She wears these nice dresses, and the flounce when – “ James piped down with the glare from Remus.

Harry looked up from his Dad and saw Severus working feverishly over his parchment, nose an inch from the paper in front of him, writing furiously across the instructions. Harry wandered up to the front, passing through Slughorn who was nattering on about meeting Henry Potter years ago when he was apprenticing with him as a young man. Harry realized that he was talking about his Great-Grandfather, a man he knew nothing about. Neither Sirius nor Remus ever mentioned Henry Potter.

“Made his fortune brewing Sleekeazy’s potion, he did. So many witches who fried their hair in the new century trying to have big bushy hair – “ Harry snickered to himself, laughing at how Hermione used it well enough, he reckoned. “ – that they needed this new potion to calm it down, straighten it out, and make it look reasonably natural for debonair witches in London. He sure did, made his fortune then retired to Cornwall to live off the proceeds. But so I am told, by mutual friends of course, that he still dabbles in potions experiments. Isn’t that right, James?”

James looked up and straightened his glasses. “Well, Dad does sometimes and has since Henry died, but those are only stories to me since he died decades before I was born.”

“And such a loss that was. He was an excellent Potioneer, and one I learned so much from.”

Harry went up front and froze. Lily Evans was seated at the front, pointedly ignoring the parchment note sent to her from across the room, courtesy of Severus. Each time that it poked her, she burned it to ash before banishing it away.”

Harry stepped closer.

“Why is he still bothering you, Lils? You told him off in front of everyone, especially after calling you a terrible name in front of everyone. I thought he’d have scampered off after that.”

Lily sighed and turned back to her notes, not seeing how Severus conjured another charmed parchment sheet to send across the room. “How many times has he been caught out of bounds, well after midnight, sleeping at the front of the Gryffindor door, hoping to catch me out on rounds? Isn’t it a dozen now, in a month?”

Alice smirked. “And it just so happens that the only times you’re out on rounds is when he’s not there. I dunno how you’re managing that.”

“Sure you do, considering you helped me with it.”

“Well, yeah, and it is brilliant, mind you. You’d think after a month’s detentions and you ignoring him completely would give the hint that he’s gone for good.”

“I know but between him and that toerag Potter, and that arsewart Black whose always with the sod, I can barely catch a moment’s peace between them both. It’s a wonder they aren’t dueling again in the hallways over my honor – neither of which are interested in. It’s like they are fighting over me when I don’t want either one of them, as a friend or more.”

“You could tell them that you’re dating Marlene McKinnon.”

“Oh Lord, that would be so much worse, even if I was interested. They’d have a cockfight then, for sure, desperately trying to win my affections back when they are both sods and I want nothing to do with them.”

“So how do you tell them both off without getting into trouble yourself?”

“Well, I could lock them in a broom cupboard and let them fight it out for good.”

“That’s an image I didn’t need to consider.”

“And you’re right because ignoring them isn’t working either. They just won’t give over that I refuse to talk with either one of them, one for being horrid and the other for being equally horrid but also a cocky little shit.”

“So which one is which?”

“It alternates day to day.” Lily refused to look behind Marlene, considering she felt Severus attempts to get her attention.

“So if they continue to bother you?”

“I’ve considered going to McGonagall and letting her handle this problem. She might claw them up some once she’d one with them,” Alice snickered, “or she might give them detention for a month. It’d serve them right when I refuse both.”

“I’m surprised it’s not been worse, actually. You know James tried to blackmail you into going out with him.”

“Yeah and Severus called me that name. I knew he didn’t like Muggles at all, and knew I was sensitive to such nasty language but I never expected him to refer to me that way. I was his friend but I guess it was more a friend he could use rather than an actual one. Did I ever tell you about the time he hurt Tunie?”

Harry walked back to where Kingsley was standing, between Remus and James, watching Horace walking through him repeatedly.

“He might be a bit of a codger, but he is also one hell of a Potions Master. I’d have never made it into the Aurors without his teaching or extra lessons.”

“Snape was ok but I didn’t get better until I got a book sixth year for Professor Slughorn’s class that had different instructions in it. Hermione was so mad that I finally was better than her at something magical, well besides Defense. I thought she was going to have a conniption fit when – “

Harry stopped and froze. He saw James taking notes and it was very distinctive. “Damn.”

“What?” Kingsley stood off to the side, observing Harry walking through Slughorn and across the room.

“It’s that book, and the additional notes in it. It wasn’t Snape’s copy of it. For years I thought it was his, because the instructions were so similar but varied in one or two small details, ones that made the potions work faster, or brew better, or more potent.”

Harry pointed to the handwriting in James’s notes and the way he wrote his F’s and N’s and T’s. They all flourished, like the instructions in the potions book he had to hide in his sixth year and was incinerated the next in the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement.

“They were in Dad’s handwriting. I’d swear to it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I never realized it.” Harry went to the front and saw Snape’s handwriting. They were distinctly different. “I’m sure of it. Snape was excellent but they weren’t his original notes. I’d bet you ten galleons Snape learned from Dad’s notes and profited from it.”

“Snape always knew what he was doing. But it also wouldn’t surprise me he nicked your Dad’s book to know why he was so good.”

“Yeah, but it seems that being a thief and stealing dad’s efforts should be added to it.” Harry stopped and saw Severus had opened the book – the one he had his sixth year. Sure enough, in the front, he saw it written in Snape’s handwriting, _Property of the Half-Blood Prince._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: I will be writing the next chapter the first week of the new year and get ahead again. - DG


	12. Opening paragraph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns more from Kingsley Shacklebolt and they investigate yet another memory - and Harry finds out something that forces even more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** This chapter will be unsettling for readers, and some of the ideas presented are not my own - not at all - but in light of current events and historical accuracy, will upset readers, especially for those who have been persecuted historically. If you need/want more of a warning, email me and I'll answer it gladly - or ask on Tumblr (diva.gonzo) and I'll answer there, too. _-DG_

* * *

Harry pulled back out of the memory about his parents and the consequences of Snape's final betrayal with his Mum. The epiphany with the book opened his eyes to see how brilliant his father actually was. Then again, Snape was brilliant too, in his own underhanded and rather Slytherin method.

"Well, that was informative but also not the least bit helpful for what we are trying to accomplish." Kingsley rubbed his eyes and huffed out a breath. "We can look at maybe 2 more before we knock off for the day. I'm bloody exhausted and I'm on day 3 of the pepper-up potions. If I take another, the addiction will kick in and I'll be arsed to have that problem in addition to everything else. So when we're done. I'll see you home to the Burrow before I crash."

"How addictive is Pepper-up Potion?" Harry thought how useful it could be to ignore sleep until he crashed from pure exhaustion.

"Aurors only use them sparingly, except in worst case situations. That's what we have right now. I have permission from Healer Greengrass for five of us right now. That permission doesn't include you, Harry. And I wouldn't have you do it, given your current situation."

"Sir, that's a load of crap."

"No, it's not. Since Audrey hasn't seen you yet and made a professional assessment, you're not getting it, at least from me. And if I find out that you nicked some from someone else you won't like the results." Kingsley sighed again. "Look, I can only imagine how bad the nightmares are, after everything that has happened to you. I can also appreciate the desire to skip a few nights of sleep so you don't have to cope with the nightmares until you are falling asleep standing up. But I learned from Mad-Eye that the price exacted for the choice isn't worth it. Besides," Kingsley stifled a yawn behind his hand, "breaking the addiction is a pain in the arse. Now, pick another and let's continue. I figure I've got an hour left in me and I'd like to get through 2 more before you get home."

Harry bit his tongue. Home right now was in Australia with his two best friends. Home wasn't the Burrow, at least not yet.

Instead, he put the stoppered vial back into the tray and plucked up another one. It appeared filled to the rim, and the cork barely sealing the glass vial in his hands. Red swirls floated through the memory. Somehow he knew it was going to be bad. He felt it deep inside.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered before he plucked the particular one out and poured it into the Pensieve. The memories swirled before his eyes, almost like a bad storm brewing in the bowl.

"I think this one is going to be bad, sir."

"Intuition?"

"Yeah. But it's not stopping me." Harry dove into the memory.

He landed in what appeared to be the Malfoy dining room if he could hazard a guess. He was standing at the head of a very large table and only two men were present: Professor Snape and Voldemort.

Harry felt revulsion immediately at seeing the nightmare sitting before him. Every fatality in his nightmares was because of him. Fred, Remus, Lavender, Tonks – so many dead, all because of one sod who craved power and didn't care who he killed to have it. Somehow the memory was growing darker, washed out in darkness.

"Harry, breathe." The voice felt like the best Honeyduke's chocolate he ever had. His vision brightened up and the steel band across his chest relented. His hands unclenched and his jaw loosened up from the pressure in his jaw. He took another and felt the older Auror's hand on his shoulder. That touch, which he hadn't had in weeks comforted him. That one hand on his shoulder, given freely in support, was what he desperately needed at that moment. The ones who would hug him- Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, even Ginny – were unavailable. He felt like an outsider, a burden on the family who took him in – and caused them so much grief over the years. How could he ask anyone to comfort him, when he was the cause of so much misery in the Weasley family.

Kingsley put his other hand on Harry's shoulder. "What are you thinking, Harry?"

"I faced that bastard down three times, sir. Face to face, not like his disembodied spirit residing on the back of Quirrell's head or during the fight in the Ministry." Harry blanked his mind over the incident the second year with Riddle's 16-year-old Horcrux. "Then there was the time as a baby when my Mum shielded me with her life." Harry took a deep breath. "I didn't want to kill him, not really. I thought that if he felt any sort of remorse over what he did – even a sliver of it – the pain would destroy him. Instead, he pushed the issue and died."

"If you want, I can view this memory without you. Why don't you wait for me? It shouldn't take long."

"No, sir. I promised I'd do it with you. I have to do this." Calm washed over him, somehow. "I'm ready, sir." He saw Kingsley motion his wand silently and the memory started.

"Severus, do you know why I summoned you here today?" The sibilant voice grated in Harry's ears. That voice was dead and buried for good. Kingsley promised him that. But the terror still rattled his soul.

"I assume that you have a task for me, one that is of the most importance."

"You are correct. The night above Surrey I originally presumed we would rid ourselves of Potter once and for all. The ploy they used was rather inspired. I'm honestly surprised they could manage to escape my followers that night."

"I can only assume that someone tipped the members of the Order and they came out with the idea. But sire, you confronted Potter in the skies above Devon. You had him and yet old magic defeated you again. If it's a problem, send Bellatrix or Rodolphus to kill the boy. I am sure that they would be more than glad to handle that task."

"Severus, the prophecy says that I must be the one to kill him – no one else. Bellatrix has begged for the task but I have to be the one, by my wand. I have one in my possession who can answer my questions and what I can do to defeat Potter's wand – and kill him – for good. But I must have answers before I confront Potter again. The old magic used to shield him is gone. Dumbledore is dead. I have you. There is no one standing between me and Potter. He is defenseless now against the might of the newly formed Ministry. Between Yaxley controlling the willing puppet Thicknesse and the help of another inside the Ministry – one witch who quietly agrees that Muggles are a disgrace and should be kept for labor – and the Mudbloods disposed of for the theft of Magic from those Purebloods who are worthy for power and ruling over the rest."

"There is the issue with the Weasley family, then. They are Purebloods but also Blood traitors. How can we deal with them?"

"They have a daughter, correct?"

"Yes, sire. The youngest, Ginevra, is their only daughter. But she would be difficult to control, at least willingly."

"Surely the father could be _persuaded_ to agree to marry her off, to protect the rest from annihilation. Surely the girl can be married off to another one who is worthy, such as Draco."

"Sire, are you suggesting –"

"I am not blind. We need more Pureblood children, eventually, to continue our work. We also must cleanse the families of any taint. That would mean a solution. We cannot abide those worthy families of being tainted going forward. Those half-bred animals must be put down, for the good of our new society."

"Would that include the oldest, William? From what I have heard, he is marrying this weekend, to someone not Pureblooded."

"Where are they to wed, Severus?"

"I would presume the Weasley residence. Unfortunately, I do not know where that is."

"Then it's time to decapitate the Ministry leadership. Scrimgeour would know. Bellatrix can break the Minister. She has been begging for something to do the last fortnight. Once she has that information, we will attack the Weasley family during the wedding ceremony, kidnap the youngest, and if for some reason Potter is there, we can dispose of him, too."

"I am sure the rest of the family will be there, as well. Maybe the Mudblood Granger can be killed, too."

"Yes, I've heard Draco complaining about the Mudblood. Now that it has been decided, once Scrimgeour is dead and Thicknesse is installed as Minister, your task will be to take over as Headmaster of Hogwarts. The toady in the ministry has the proper documents drawn up and only needs the new Minister's signature. But you will need worthy professors in addition to the others. I have decided that Amicus and Alecto will teach there. Amicus can teach Dark arts, especially to those worthy Slytherins who show an aptitude for following orders. We will eventually need more people to do the dirty work and other unpleasant tasks. Alecto can teach Muggle Studies." Voldemort made a rude noise. "You, however, will ensure that Alecto teaches what we want – that Purebloods are superior humans to everyone else – and that Muggles are subservient to those who are worthy. See to that, along with ingraining the children into our viewpoint. I insist that attendance is compulsory and mandatory for all children. We cannot abide any parents teaching their children seditious ideas."

"And the Weasley girl, once she has sired more Purebloods?"

"The Weasley family will be wiped out, for good. They are a blight."

"And others?"

"After a few deaths which will be regrettable, the rest of the families will fall in line, willingly."

"Who will be your examples?"

"Alistair Parkinson already knows what to do and if he breaks ranks, he'll perish too. One of my associates has that situation well in hand and we'll know immediately whether he will be a problem." Voldemort steepled his hands before him, growing lost in thought. "The only ones from the Sacred 28 will be Lucius Malfoy, along with Molly Prewett Weasley, Amelia Bones, Kenneth McClaggen, Paisley Finch-Fletchley, and to amuse Bellatrix, Frank, and Alice Longbottom. The infirm are a waste of services that are better spent on healthy Purebloods. Oh, and let's include Levi Goldstein. He's the chief Healer at St. Mungo's. If we are going to have control of the population, we will have to control the healthcare of the population. Purebloods of good standing will have everything they need. The rest? Well, that will depend on their acceptance of a Fidelity Oath. If they refuse, they can rot in Azkaban until they die."

"Wouldn't those incarcerations and deaths influence the students?"

"Possibly, but it will happen only if they find out about their parent's situation. Control of information will be key. We will have control of the Post as well as Floo network, to control travel as well as information. I will also have someone kidnap Alana Parkinson, so her husband is amenable to printing what news we see fit to disseminate. Yaxley has agreed to take over Magical Law. He knows his tasks as soon as he's installed."

"You seem to have everything ready the moment Scrimgeour is dead."

"I realized after Lucius Malfoy's failure two years ago demanded other ideas and solutions. I thought he was competent. He isn't. So I have to rely on others to handle certain affairs necessary to smoothly run the new order we are building."

"Once you have accomplished all of this, what are your further plans?"

Voldemort smiled and Harry grew sick. "That, my dear Severus, will be shared once we have answered the question to the Muggleborn problem."

Kingsley gasped. "We've seen enough, Harry." He laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and yanked them out of the memory. Harry stumbled to the ground, fighting a wave of nausea. That memory was wretched but something else bothered him.

"Kingsley, what was that about? That last statement makes no sense." 

"That, Harry, was Professor Snape hearing about Voldemort's annihilated plan to murder all of the Muggleborn in the UK."

Harry fell on his arse. "Voldemort intended to murder the entire Muggleborn population?"

"It sure seems like that was a goal of his. But that was information I needed. Those names are important."

"I thought you knew about Amelia Bones."

"I did. I didn't know about Levi Goldstein, Paisley Finch-Fletchley, and Kenneth McClaggen. I'll have to check on each of them whenever I can in the next day or so."

"He mentioned Mrs. Weasley." Harry fought down the urge to vomit thinking about Mrs. Weasley being killed. "The bastard wanted to kill her."

"I'll quietly mention it to Arthur. Some remaining death eaters might want to target her to continue his plans. I don't want any rogue fanatics harming her, or Arthur either."

"I can't tell Ginny, can I?"

"You could since they did attempt to kidnap her at your brother's wedding. It's fortunate that Scrimgeour held out as long as he did."

"Fortunate? We had thirty seconds warning before the first of the sods showed up. How did they know where the Burrow was? I thought it was protected.

"It was. But when the Minister was forced to give the information up, They could batter the protective charms to gain access. The minister knew where you lived since he was out a short time prior. But then the Minister was the only one, aside from anyone in the Order who knew where Arthur and Molly lived. Arthur is very protective of his privacy if you can believe it."

How can we protect them further? The thought of rogue Death Eaters coming calling gives me nightmares.”

“When I take you home, we’ll discuss it with Arthur and Bill. I don’t think Molly will be in any shape to add to that discussion right now.”


End file.
